Sleepless Memories (From Feb 1, 2012)

I'm having a craptastic night. Can't sleep. At all. You would think after not getting much sleep at all for the last three nights, I would just crawl in bed and pass out...not so much. I have been tossing and turning and getting up and down. I know why. It doesn't happen ever month, but more often than not, I get this way a few days before anniversaries. Even though I don't think about it before hand, and don't even consciously pay attention to the dates. Here I am, up on the eighth month anniversary on the night my Ila girl died.

Sometimes it sneaks up on you, like it has this time. It just slowly works its way into your plans, your whole day or week even. Other times, it hits like a wrecking ball, out of nowhere you are slammed sideways. It's not easy to just stand back up and keep going, no matter which was it attacks you. Grief just hurts. It's not fair either. These days that can be so crippling, it's made worse by the fact the whole world just keeps going. It's just another day. But for me, its a day that takes me back to the very moments that hurt the worst.

Tonight I remember what it was like on this night eight months ago. Laying in bed, sleep being a little hard to find, worrying about the little girl inside me who I hadn't felt move in hours. Loving her so incredibly much that I thought my heart might burst and being so thankful that after waiting for so long, that we were finally having a baby, the girl that was promised to us. Rolling

over, trying to dismiss those nagging feelings that something was terribly wrong. Everything would be fine in the morning, I would wake up and she would be more wiggly than ever before. Oh how I miss those little kicks. Those wonderfully flutters! I wish I had got to feel her for longer, more often. I cherished ever movement I ever felt from her. That may seen fairytaleish but it's true. The hours I spent praying for it, the years I waited for it, makes you really appreciate what you have. I really did love it all. I sure miss her.

Why Remembering Her Birthday is More Important Than His (December 2, 2011)

Heartache is the worst kind of pain, for there is no repair but time. As time goes on, things do get better. But there are some days that take you right back to that day or moment when things changed forever. On these days, the pain is as real and as fresh as it was at the start. That's when you go back from taking things day by day to taking things breath by breath, moment by moment. We never forget. But we are afraid that you will.

From the perspective of a Baby Loss Momma, we know you can't remember our babies like we can. We held them, wept over them and tried to memorize every single feature during those brief and precious moments that we shared. You never met them, your kids didn't play with them and you never watched them while we ran to the store for milk. But to think that you could forget them, well, that shatters what's left of our hearts.

I wonder if anyone remembers the date that she was born besides me. It was six months ago today. Six months that have taken a lifetime to get through. Six months that were the blink of an eye.

Most of my friends don't know my boys' birthdays. And honestly, I don't know many of their kids birthdays either. It's never bothered me, and still doesn't. I don't expect you to memorize them, or even put them in your calendar. I figure I'll get an invitation to the ones that want us to celebrate with them, just as we would do the same. Frankly, it's just not a bid deal. When your children aren't here, it's different. It somehow matters more.

For us, it isn't just her birthday. It's her only day. The only day that we ever got to be with her, even though she wasn't there with us. Dates are important. If you know anyone that has lost a child, whether at birth or later, make it important to you too. Write it down, memorize it, or put it in your phone. Let them know on those days that you are remembering their child. I now know several ladies who have lost their little ones. I remember those babies, I remember their names, I try to remember their dates. It's important to their parents, so it's important to me.

Where We Are (October 28, 2011)

Many of you know our story, or parts of it, anyway. For those of you that do not know, here is a mini version. After finally overcoming 4 years of infertility, our daughter, Ila (eye-la) Claire, was born sleeping on June 2 of this year. Needless to say, we were devastated. We still are. We miss her more than words can express and there is no way to describe the pain that comes with losing a child.

Shortly after losing Ila, I became pregnant again, much to our surprise. We were thrilled and terrified at the same time. I tried not to worry but that was impossible. I was 12 weeks along when I delivered last Monday. I know at this stage it's called a miscarriage, but those of you that have experienced this know that it is labor and delivery, nonetheless.

Obviously, it was too early to tell the sex. Yet, my husband and I both knew it was another little girl. As soon as she was born, her name came to me, ”Macy Lynn”. We had never talked about that name. The Lord revealed it to me just moments after I delivered her. It wasn't a “mass of tissue” or just “blood and clots”. She was a very tiny baby that fit in my hand. I never thought I would hold a baby smaller than my little Ila girl.

Shortly after Macy was born, I went to look through Ila's clothes to find something pretty I could cut up and wrap her in. I found a beautiful purple dress and proceeded to make a wrapping for her. I had a small treasure chest in my living room that I have had for years. The chest was very fitting for us. I made a little bed out of more of the fabric and laid her sweet little body in the chest. Our sweet Macy will be laid to rest privately.

A few days after Ila died my husband talked about the bible verse (Matthew 6:19-20), which reads, "Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth...but store up for yourselves treasures in Heaven". We both feel these babies are the greatest treasures we could possibly store up for ourselves. My sister in law and niece gave me a cross with Ila's name

and birth date on it that reads "When someone you love becomes a memory, their memory becomes a treasure." They are getting us a matching one for Macy Lynn. The one I have is so precious to me, and I know the new one will be too.

Any joy that was finally returning has been stripped away. There was no period of shock like there was after Ila was born. No buffer before reality really set in. The pain hit instantly. Tears come quickly and often. This is

like salt in my wound

.

Real (August 24, 2011)

Part of my 'problem' has always been that I say things that most others only think. It's not that I don't have a 'filter' it's just that I genuinely don't care what people think of my realness.

It's no different now, it's just uglier because of the place I'm in. I'm not good at pretending and I don't put on a happy face for the sake of those around me. Why would anyone want me too anyway? What good has faking it ever really done for anyone? Those who love me love the me I am, not the me I could pretend to be.

I've said before that I go up and down. I never know what thoughts or feelings might hit from day to day, or even hour to hour. Sometimes, I'm mean, bitter and nasty. I see you with all sorts of blessings, miracles and general happiness and I want to be happy for you. But I'm not. I'm just jealous. I'm not saying it's right, but it's real.

Why would I even say that out loud? Well because. Because I feel that way, and one day you might too, for whatever reason. Or you may have felt that way already. If no one says things because they are taboo, how is anyone ever suppose to know that what they are feeling isn't unheard of and doesn't make them a terrible person? It's just real.

I can already see the shaking of heads. "Oh poor Bobbi, she needs Jesus." Well, I already have Him, thank you very much, but I'm not perfect. I'm still stuck here on this earth with heartaches, trials, attacks from the enemy and real. human. responses.

If that's too much for you, well, that's just sad. Because people hurt and if you aren't willing to get into the ugly, and really hear that pain, well, I don't know how you can ever really relate to anyone.