Grateful

Remember when I mentioned some days are good and some days are bad? Well, sometimes a bad day can start simply by me hearing or seeing something that just sets me off. I may not even realize what happened until the next day and sometimes not at all. Not to say that I can blame all my issues on everyone else. It's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong. But you may have unintentionally sent me into a spiral of self pity, anger or sadness.

All I want is for everyone to walk on egg shells around me, is that so much to ask? LOL. No,really, in all seriousness, I do need a certain level of sensitivity right now. I have a broken heart, and it's tender, very tender. Just as you would handle someone with a broken bone with care, I need gentleness. This will take a little forethought, as most of the 'harsh handling' comes from things easily avoided.

There are some things I just can't handle right now. Complaining is a big one. Especially if you are pregnant. If that seems offensive, stop for a minute and think about it. Surely, you can understand why I'm just short of intolerant of this. It hurts. It sounds ungrateful. And it's not fair.

To hear someone complain about something so precious, something I have desired for years, and continue to desire, is incredibly painful. It's like a slap in the face. I'm not saying it's right, or that you aren't physically miserable, I'm just telling you how it feels to me.

When I was pregnant with my oldest son, we lived in Florida. I was sick, and I complained about it constantly. I had no idea that this 'all day morning sickness' would be so bad. A friend of ours, Matthew Tippins put me right in my place. He told me, very sweetly I might add, that I was complaining about something that many women would cut off their own right arm to have. He reminded me that I should be more grateful. He was right.

That short conversation made all the difference to me, and still does. I'm not saying I don't ever complain, or didn't ever gripe about being pregnant ever again. But I can tell you, it cut down my complaining a lot...and with nearly every complaint uttered since then, I am reminded that I have so much to be grateful for. Even now, as I sit here and write this, I am reminded that I DOhave much to be grateful for. And I am grateful. But I still miss my daughter, and I still have bad days, and still need gentleness.

It's amazing how something so brief, from over 13 years ago, can have such a profound effect on me today. God used Matt that day to teach me something. Matt will probably roll his eyes at that thought, as he isn't a believer. He probably just wanted me to quit bitching. But that doesn't matter, believe it or not, he still 'got used'.

Really, we can take what Matt said and apply it to everything. Everyone has something thatsomeone else wants. And everyone has something that can cause them pain when someone else is complaining out it. Some people gripe about their mother in-law while the gal nearby might miss her mother in-law because she died of cancer years before. This lady might complain about her husband working too late when that lady is praying for their husband to find a job, any job, so that they might not lose their house. One might spout off about their car not getting good gas mileage while another is just wishing they had a car that ran. I realize that these are real complaints, real life things that are bothering people. But before you let it pass your lips, think about those around you. Who might you hurt just by tossing out a little complaint? Does it sound ungrateful? And quit complaining about the heat, everyone knows it's hot!

This is for me right now too. What have I said that might have stabbed someone else right in the heart? I'm so torn up about losing my daughter, who I only got to hold for 6 ½ hours, perhaps I have hurt someone that didn't get to hold their daughter at all. And I'm so worried about not being able to conceive again that I may seem ungrateful for the children that I have been able to bare, which could be hurtful to the woman who has never been able to have any children. It's certainly is not my intent, and it's not yours to hurt myself or others, but it still happens, it still hurts.

Losing Ila hurts in so many ways, more than I can describe to you. It has also taught me many things, as well. Some things I never wanted to learn. And some things about gratefulness and gratitude. Some days I am grateful for everything, and some days I don't feel nice enough to be grateful about anything. Yet, every prayer of mine begins with 'thank you'.

Messy

Today I just want to scream. I want to kick my feet, punch holes in walls and whack softballs so far into the east field that they can't be seen (and yes, I can do that ). I'm sad and mad and anxious and mean and impatient and ugly.

I know some are thinking “Wow, Bobbi is really having a hard time with this.” Well, no shit moron! My kid is DEAD, of course I'm having a hard time with this. Give me a break already, it's only been two months. I get out of bed every morning and I'm not thinking about driving off bridges so I think I'm okay. I'm allowed to be a mess. And I am one!

I think that some of you are shocked at the way I feel or how 'bad' I'm doing, but the truth is, how are you suppose to know how bad or good I'm 'suppose' to be doing or how I should be feeling? You don't. You can't. Unless your kid is dead. And then of course, you know I'm doing just as you would expect me too. I'm sure that some of the things you hear (or see) me say are shocking, or at least a bit surprising. I realize that most people don't throw all of the junk out for everyone to see like I have been. Some people are naturally quiet (I'm not), some naturally keep to themselves (I don't) and some just don't want everyone to see them vulnerable.

Because of this, this normal human behavior, the people that haven't dealt with this directly don't really have an accurate view of what this looks like. It sucks, that's what it looks like. Every day is different and I don't always know what to expect. Some days are fine, other days are reallllly hard. Some days just plain suck. Sometimes I'm on the edge of tears, and other times I am genuinely happy. None of this makes me crazy, none of this is me not dealing well with this. This is what it looks like. This is my life right now.

It's been suggested by a few that I see a counselor. I can take that two ways...one...people think I'm crazy....two...people love me and want to see me through this. I'm gonna go with the 'I'm loved' version. And I do feel loved, but I don't want to see a counselor. I don't want to cry to strangers. I'd rather talk to my friends and relate to the few I know that have lost a child. If you are uncomfortable with this, with me right now, then simply don't reply when I call/text/chat/email if you are afraid I might emotionally vomit in your lap. I don't think that will be a real problem, because I have figured out a majority of who is and who isn't comfortable around me or talking to me about specific things. That doesn't mean I don't love the rest of you, it just means I am leaning on those I know I can lean on right now.

Talking with other gals that are a part of this stupid club, I know I'm okay. Well, not okay...in the words of my dear friend Lydia “I'll never be okay with this”. But okay as in 'within normal parameters' for this situation. It sucks folks, it just plain sucks. It's ugly. It's where I am today.

I realize that I'm hard to please right now, and that might be very frustrating to my friends and family. Some days I want to get out of the house, other days I want to stay home. Sometimes I want to talk, other times I don't answer the phone. One day I will be mad about something thoughtless someone said, the next day I will have grace for their ignorance. Some days I want to be surrounded by people, and other days I want to be alone. Some days I cry out to my God, other days I don't. This is what it looks like. This is my life right now.

Anxiety

Anxiety. That's the word of the week around here. Well, around me anyway. Yesterday marked 2 months since I held my girl. Two months, and the pain is still fresh. I would say this week was better than a couple weeks ago when I spent the days sobbing. But the better I mean is really better for others. I still hurt. I still hurt a lot. I'm still crying a lot. Some days quite a bit and some days a few tears. Tears aren't exactly how I would measure my level of well being. Right now I am battling my anxiety.

Sometimes I still don't want Stephen to go to sleep before me. Some days I still meet him for lunch just to be around him. I worry that the guys he works with will get tired of having me butt in, but I just need him right now. Sometimes I get this feeling in the pit of my stomach, then a tightness in my chest and my head feels like it might actually just pop right off. Anxiety. I know. Just toss back a Xanax and everything will be fine right? Or postponed..until the band-aid wears off. It comes and goes, it's not unbearable, but uncomfortable.

I never know what might send me into a fit of tears or a frustrated mess. My kids help. A lot. My oldest always has such perfect things to say when I need to hear them most. Well, they all do, but he's all grownupish. Sometimes they have no idea they just sent my maddness out the window.

The clutter in my house is getting to me in a big way. We always have clutter...I'm a terrible house keeper. But lately, not having just one room that is in order, has been driving me crazy....like get up and clean at 1am crazy. I have neglected everything for 2 months and now it's time to tackle it. I might be cleaning off the counter, find a card that someone sent and start crying. I might clean of a desk and NOT find a paper I need and get super angry. I just feel mean. I haven't been meeting friends for things because I just sit there and look like Polly Pissy Pants. I'm not good at putting on a happy face for the sake of everyone else.

Yesterday Daniel crawled up in my lap and started talking to me about Ila. He had a lot of questions and wanted to see her pictures again. He got a little sad and said “I almost makin tears Mom.” And when I did make tears he said “It's okay to cry, I think I gonna cry a little too”. Danny, who wanted a boy baby last time, told me he is ready for a baby sister and it's gonna take a long time again. For the little guys, our pregnancy with Ila was an eternity!! It's so hard to watch them hurt. I can't fix it for them. They lost someone too. And it doesn't matter that they never played with her or heard her cry. They loved her already and were her valiant protectors!

Harder

When my mom called to tell me that my dad had passed away, I wasn't shocked. I was sad, but not surprised. I don't even remember a lot of tears right away. It was more like, okay, lets get through the funeral. When I was told that my brother was gone, I was in shock. It was like I was standing outside myself listening to the conversation happening. I nearly hit the floor. Literally, my husband had to catch me and lower me to the ground. It was like compounding grief, we hadn't even gotten to the meat of mourning my dad and here we were at it again.

The next week was just stupid. The crappiest Deja Vu ever. Picking out plots, looking at urns, writing the obituary. We were all such a mess. I never imagined that I would go through anything harder than that. Boy was I wrong.

As much as we hate to admit it, we expect that our parents will die before us. And siblings, well, somebody has to go first. But no one ever imagines that one of their kids could go before them. Parents aren't suppose to outlive their children. Period. Yet, the worlds first set of parents did that very thing, just as myself and many others are doing it now. And it REALLY sucks. It's just not fair.

When I first realized how much more I hurt over losing Ila, than I did my dad or brother, I was puzzled and felt a little guilty. How could I hurt so much more over losing someone that I never met outside my body than these two amazing men I loved my entire life? A parent's love for our children is so immense, so limitless, that nothing can compare to it.

The pain that comes with this, is at times, almost unbearable. Right up to the edge of just wanting to die! My heart is broken and nothing anyone can say or do will fix it. I know it will never be totally mended and I will never be the same. I know it will get easier and life will go on. But while I'm here, on this side of that promise, it hurts. Really bad. I realize now that's it's not how long you love someone, it's how deeply you love them.

It's Mean & Ugly

I'm pissy today. Pissy about nothing, pissy about everything. Nothing set me off, nothing happened to start my bad mood today. It's just here. I'm not mad, I'm not sad, I'm just ugh. Ugh.

Laying down wishing for a nap this afternoon, I looked out the window, only for my view to be blocked by a big shelf decoration that says FAITH. Well it just made me pissy to. Faith in what? "SHOCK, GASP! Did she just say that?" Yep, she did. Faith that my kids will be safe? No. Faith that I will always have a home? No. Faith that we will all have our health? No. Faith that everything will be alright? Absolutely not.

Sure doesn't seem like faith guarantees any of those things. "But Bobbi, the bible says 'ask and it shall be given to you'"! And I have to respond "Well, go ahead. Ask, and it might not." Even Jesus was denied a request. It comes down to God's will. And often times, His will, isn't what we want. Often times, it just plain sucks. Yep, I just said that God's will sucks. Did you gasp again? Was it because I put into words something that everyone has thought and not expressed, or because your life is so perfect and God's will for you has always been a smooth and wonderful road without bumps, roadblocks or discomforts?

The faith I have, faith in God, is all I have. But it doesn't make life easy. It doesn't make me feel safe from the darkness of this world. In fact, it puts a big fat target right on your back. One that is unmistakable to the enemy. He makes life hard. He says mean things. “Well, Bobbi, you are just letting Satan steal your joy.” Whatever. I have no joy to be stolen at this very moment. I can't get back what is causing my pain, therefore, the joy that I”m missing at this moment isn't because it's currently being stolen. Go ahead, next time something terrible happens in your life, just rebuke, just pray, just have faith and I'm sure the whole situation will look like as beautiful as a field of wildflowers in no time.

I'm sure I sound bitter, angry, and mean. Maybe I'm all of those. So what. It's how I feel. You think less of me because of it? Does it make it any different that I said it out loud when God already knows what's being said in my heart? I know I'm being molded, reshaped, worked over through this and hopefully I come out better for it on the other side. So what. Still sucks. I still love my Jesus. He knows I'm not down with this, not happy about this at all. but I know He can take it and I know He loves me too.

It's Raw. It's Real.

Lots of people are treating me as if they expect me to be back to normal but I'm a freaking WRECK! I want to know when I will feel better, when I won't hurt sooo much. I want these nice, easy answers..."In 2 more weeks you will be able to cook dinner for your family." "3 weeks and 4 days from now, you will no longer cry every day." “ In just 2 weeks, 6 days you will be able to walk into a group of people and not feel like throwing up.” I'm not functioning normally (and I think that's okay) but what am I supposed to do?? I don't wanna go on play dates, I don't wanna have sleepovers and I don't wanna clean my house. I killed my garden and my house is a wreck. We've eaten out every night since meals stopped coming because the thought of planning and then cooking dinner might as well be the same as building a new space rocket, that's how overwhelming it is.

I need help, but I don't know how to ask for it. I feel like everyone thinks I should be doing better and should be able to handle things but I can't! A few days ago, while I was at Walmart with Stephen to get some milk, he asked if I wanted him to cook out chicken for dinner and what I wanted to make to go with it. I seriously thought I would have a panic attack right then. I couldn't even think of two side items. I started to cry right there on the baking aisle. He was quick to comfort me and come up with another solution. Dinner seems to be my biggest obstacle. I know the house is a wreck, but it will still be a wreck when I am able to focus enough to clean it, it can wait. But I do have to feed my family every day. Thank God for dollar menus!

This last week has been way way way harder than the last few weeks. I don't know why. I didn't expect to hit a harder patch. I think that made it even worse, since I just thought I would continue to get a little better. I'm not. I feel like I'm going backwards. It's probably 'normal' but it sucks. I hate crying. It's always been something I consider pointless since it doesn't make me feel any better and leaves me with a headache. Even though I have shed tears every day, I haven't really CRIED much. Like sobbing. That's what I've been doing this last week. Feeling pain and SOBBING. I guess I need to do it. Still sucks, still hate it.

People avoiding me makes me feel like a freak. My daughter is never going to undie and this event is never going to unhappen. I'm not sure how long they plan on avoiding me. I realize that people don't know what to say, and many fear saying the wrong things. If you have a lack of words, just say 'I'm sorry' or 'I love you'. I'd rather have you say something, unless you plan on saying something really dumb, like “Oh, my dog died last week so I know EXACTLY how you feel.” Your words are better to be said, not left unspoken. I have a friend that started posting a little heart on my FB page every few days. That spoke volumes to me. No words needed. Nothing you can say is going to take my pain away, but your words do have the power of life and CAN make me smile, make me feel loved and make me realize that you haven't forgotten about my Ila Claire.

When A Child Dies...

A friend of mine shared this with me. I think it's great. I thought I would share it with you all...and I kinda added my thoughts at the end...

1. Never tell us that we are doing *it* wrong. *It* is unbearable and we are doing the best there is to do. Honest. If you would do things differently that is fine. But don't tell us. This is not your job or burden to bear and we DO have to do it and you don't.

2. Don't tell us that they are in a better place. We know heaven is nicer than here, but we like them here just fine and really...it feels like you are saying we are not good enough for our child to stay.

3. Please don't tell us ways to save them. We already want to and can't or couldn't.

4. Don't tell us that God *must* heal our child if we just have enough faith. Perfect healing is in heaven for us all and I have yet to meet a Christian who never died. If faith was all it takes to heal everyone NO one would ever die.

5. It hurts us to be told that losing a child to death by sickness or accident is the same a when your 94 year old grandmother died in her sleep 2 years ago. It isn't the same thing at all. We know you are in pain, but it is not the same thing. At all.

6. Please don't expect us to be back to normal in a month and it is a fallacy to say grieving takes a year. We will never be the same and it will take a long time to find our way again. We will never be *over it*.

7. Please help us. Life is so overwhelming that after the death it is hard to even think of HOW to cook a meal, let alone do it. And if our child has not died yet, please offer to help in any and every way possible. If you are far away, money helps us to buy help.

8. Let us cry. We are so sorry that it makes you uncomfortable, but it is a fact of our life now. Tears will come and it doesn't mean that it is bad to talk about our children, only that we are deeply grieving them.

9. It means a lot to us when you remember our child. Expecially later when it feels like everyone has forgotten.

10. Having another baby is not the answer to losing the one that died.

11. It is NOT easier, or harder, that we have other children. No one can replace the one that died.

12. Please don't watch us as though we are about to throw ourselves into the open grave. None of us likes to be thought of as a freak show. And please think of us as something other than the-lady-whose-kid-died. That is a hard definition to live with. But also please be gentle with us for quite a while. We can't handle rough treatment.

13. We may gain weight, or lose weight, or sleep more, or not sleep at all. We may be sad for a long time. It does not mean something wrong with us. It just means we are profoundly changed.

14. We will never be the same as you once knew us. Please don't expect us to be.

15. Remember that our families are hurting too.

16. We can't help you through our child's death. We recognize that it is hard for many people but please don't lean on us as we go through this. We can't hold you up. We have other people that we have to help already. Come and help hold us up instead please. Pretty please?


Warmly,

Corinne Kligmann

My little notes...

2. ==== A friend of mine that lost her two year old son years ago explained this to me and it is soooo true. My selfish stinginess wants my Ila right here, where I can hold her and love her! There's time for heaven later!



5. ==== Comparison of any kind just really isn't fair. Losing your 94 year old grandmother isn't the same as this, and neither is a miscarriage. I struggle with this a lot. I lost my baby, my daughter, but it somehow seems unfair to those that lost an 15 day old, an 11 month old, a 2 year old or a 17 year old, to call what I am going through 'losing a child.' I would never compare my loss to theirs. It still strikes me that I hurt sooooo much over a person that I only knew as a little bump that kicked me. That's part of what hurts so tremendously. I have no memories with her. Not once did I get to see her wiggle, hear her cry or watch her breathe. That hurts more than I can tell you. What I wouldn't give for just one brief moment to have a memory of her with me!

6. ==== This is something else I struggle with. I know people don't know how to act or what to say, but I promise you this, acting as if everything is the same, is not the answer. I got the first 'real' look at what my life could look like for a while when talking to another mom who went through this very thing, not something similar, but this very thing. She said something that hit me “You might just cry a lot this year. And maybe next year.” That's something I've been wanting to know. When will I not cry every day? When will I be able to cook dinner for my family? I want some text book answer so I know when things might be better, but there are no easy answers. Honestly, for me, it's been much harder this week than it has been for the few weeks before that. Perhaps I was just plugging through, trying to make it through the first month. I dunno. I just know that this week, I'm a mess. I'm not okay, I'm sad. Ask me how I'm doing and I will probably lie. I will say I'm fine or I'm okay. I'm lying. I'm so far from okay or fine. If you ask me in person, I will probably just cry and shrug my shoulders.

7. ==== I always enjoyed the meals after having a baby. You are busy nursing and learning all about each other. Grieving is so much harder. You don't remember to eat or to drink or even to sleep. Everything is a fog. I can't tell you how many days we didn't even eat until someone showed up with food for dinner. I'm still not eating. I don't usually eat until dinner unless I meet Stephen for lunch. It's not because I'm not hungry or I don't want to eat, I simply don't remember to do it. I still can't prepare a meal for my family. My kids are living on cereal and sandwiches. Seriously, if we have a hot meal, it's eaten out or it's leftovers that my mother in law sent home with us. I don't know why I can't function on basic levels like preparing a simple dinner, I just can't. I realize it sounds dumb. It sounds dumb to me. Every task is just so overwhelming!

8. ==== I feel like I am a burden to my friends and family. Who wants to sit and listen to someone cry. And cry. And cry. I hate it. I hate crying and I'm not quick to drop tears. If I cry in front of you, feel blessed that I felt comfortable enough and safe enough with you to let them go.

9. ==== I don't feel like anyone has forgotten....yet. But I do have people that are avoiding me and that hurts. Others are simply acting like nothing ever happened. If I run into you at the store, you don't have to say anything, but maybe a sad smile, or a rub my shoulder or something that just says “I know what happened.” To act like the entire thing never occurred not only pisses me off but it's disrespectful to my entire family, or at least I think it is. It also causes me to panic and think... “Oh crap, they don't know. I have to tell them before they ask me when I had the baby because I don't want them to feel bad.” Then I tell them only to hear “Oh ya, I heard.” I ran into a sweet daughter of a friend the other day. The first thing she said was “I heard about your baby and I'm so sorry.” It was such a HUGE blessing that she recognized my baby instead of ignoring her. It really is a big deal.

10. ==== No it isn't. I do want more babies, I wanted them before I lost Ila and I still do. I would like to get pregnant soon, but that isn't because I want to replace my baby girl, and it is important to me that people understand that. I want to get pregnant soon because I have fear about not getting pregnant again and for me, the sooner the better. It took so long last time that I'm fearful it will take a long time again. And I'm just impatient. Oh, and I'm not getting any younger. I don't like the phrase “Will you try again.” That makes it sound like we tried and we failed. I don't mind being asked if we will have more babies or if we plan on getting pregnant again.

11. ====I tend to disagree with this one just a little bit. For sure, no one is replaceable my anyone else, but I know that for me, having other people that depend on me, like my husband and children, is what makes me get up in the morning. If my mom didn't have 3 daughters and a shizbang of grandkids, I'm certain she would have drank special Kool-Aid after my brother died and ended it all. One gal that I met that lost her only child feels like her entire motherhood was stolen from her. So, to some, it does make it a little easier, or a least a little more important, that will stick around and get through this.

12. ==== I'm afraid to go places. Really. I'm afraid to be around others that know me. Especially groups. I don't know why it frightens me, but unless it's a small group of close friends, I almost want to vomit walking into a situation like that right now.

13. ==== I know I'm hard on myself and I guess I expect others to be hard on me too. I do have a great support system and fabulous friends that assure me I can be a mess. Losing weight surprised me. I'm a fat chick, tend to eat my feeling so when the scale was tipped the other day, I was really surprised! I wouldn't recommend grief as a weight loss method, but hey, I guess I'll take it! Sleep doesn't come easy for me and in the morning I'm soooo tired from not sleeping for most of the night.

B.

Why I'm Afraid of the Dark...

Why I'm afraid of the dark....ok, I'm not really afraid of the dark, but nighttime now brings a new set of thoughts and feelings. When the day settles down and my distractions are few, my mind has time to roll over things that hurt. There is time to go over what happened, remember Ila's sweet face, and miss her so intensely that I usually cry.

If Stephen falls asleep to long before me, I almost panic. I hate being alone. I can do nothing but pray and rebuke the devourer. If I don't, I get attacked. It sucks. I toss and turn for ages. Sometimes, if sleep won't come, I get up. But still, I don't want to be alone. Its at that time when some lucky soul that happens to be online gets all of my emotional vomit in their lap. It's when I really need a listening ear and encouraging words.

In addition to the heartache, I also have a headache. I've had one everyday since i gave birth. At first I figured it was from dehydration and crying, and it probably was, but since now I don't spend the entire day crying and I do remember to drink water, my guess is that it's hormonal. I wake up each day with a light headache but it usually goes away, or it's minimal enough that I don't notice it while going about my day. Evening hits and I start to feel it. It gets gradually worse all evening and by bedtime it's terrible. The longer I stay up, the worse it gets, and it's hard to go to sleep because I have a headache and I'm thinking about my baby girl.

One Month

Today, July 2nd, marks one day since I had my little girl. I expected it to be a hard day. Don't get me wrong, it was hard, but it was not as hard as I expected. The morning was difficult. We got up and started to get ready to go to Enid. The day kind of loomed ahead of me. I knew it would be hard, and it was as if it was already planned out for me, like the weather man saying "and today folks, we have a 100% chance of sadness with a huge possibility of tears".

We ventured out of town and the clock in the van seemed much larger than it really is. As the minutes clicked by I recalled what was happening to me at that same moment a month ago. As the hour of Ila's birth neared, my stomach knotted up. I don't know why the minutes mattered any more than the day itself.

Just as we got everyone into my mother in law's house the tears started to come. I didn't really hide so much as go out of the way a bit to avoid making everyone else sad. My sweet husband 'found' me and loved on me. He's such a great comfort. This last month I haven't wanted to be away from him at all.

We left the boys at Grandma's house and headed out to prepare the lake house for the upcoming holiday. I scrubbed and cleaned all day while Stephen and his dad took care of the outdoor work. It was nice to spend the day helping someone else. I thought of Ila often but didn't spend my day in a puddle, which was what I anticipated after the last couple days being so hard. So many friends offered me such comfort and a needed release just by listening to me talk ( or type ).

As we finished our days work and headed back into town, I started to get that knotted feeling again. We had planned to go out to the cemetery with the boys to show them where she is buried and place a pretty pink pinwheel we picked out. The closer we got, the sicker I felt. I honestly thought I might throw up, literally this time! I sent a text to a few prayer warrior friends of mine and asked them to pray for me. I'm not one to go to cemeteries and put out flowers and such. But for some reason, it was important to me to go there today.

Just how most things turn out, it was different than I expected. When we first arrived I kind of stalled a little at the van while half the family ran on ahead. When I made my way over to my family, I wasn't crying or throwing up. I was kind of a numb feeling for a bit. When Stephen and I started talking is when my tears started to pour out. I love him so much and I'm sad for him too, he also, lost his lil' cupcake.

We talk about our baby, our boys and had a sweet moment reflecting on a special aspect of her name. While gathering up our troops we meander through the cemetery and little Stephen talks to me about a couple of headstones. He questions one that has two names but one name only has one date. I told him it was a husband/wife plot but the wife was still alive. He seemed completely baffled by that and really made a face when I said Meme's headstone was already there. We drove over to where my Dad, grandma and brother are buried to show him. As soon as Danny jumps out of the car he points at my dads headstone, not even knowing it's his Papa's, and yells "I call that motorcycle!!!" It lightened the mood in a perfect way.

Tonight I am grateful that I got to tuck my boys into bed, sing Jesus Loves Me, kiss my husband and remember my daughter. Tonight, with a peace that only God can provide, I will sleep. Today was a good day.