Summers in Iowa

Iowa has always been my happy place, but even more so in this past year. When I return to the home of my childhood, I feel a peace I don't often feel these days. The world moves a lot slower, which is good, because Jason and I feel stuck in a place that refuses to move forward, when everyone else seems to be racing ahead. 

In my perfect world we would spend our full summer in Iowa, June to August. Hopefully that can be a reality someday. I would love for Ted to experience a true Iowa summer, from camping in June, RAGBRAI in July, and all the way to the fair in August. Until then, we just get a two week slice of heaven in June.

This year, Ted and I went for two weeks and Jason joined us for the end of our trip with our annual camping weekend with my sweet Iowa girls. It always flies by way too fast and I start missing it before we even leave. 

It was my third trip home without Lily and I thought it would be a little easier this time, but honestly it was the hardest trip of all without her. I recently shared with some friends that it's harder now because I can spot a baby her age without even asking. (I don't ask anymore because I fear the answer.) Lily would have been seven months when we were there. She would have been crawling and scooting all around. She would have been in the baby carrier with me while Ted went on all the rides with his cousins. She would have been passed around to every aunt at the wedding and everyone would have gushed over the sweet dress I picked out for her. I thought it would get easier, but each day I am reminded of what is missing.

Despite the ache in my heart missing Lily, we still had a wonderful trip. That's what's so surreal...I can miss Lily with tears in my eyes, but a smile on my face watching Ted with all his sweet cousins. During the first week, Ted got his first hair cut in a savvy salon, went to Adventureland (twice!), danced until he dropped at my cousin's wedding, splashed with cousins, showed off his awesome swimming skills, and played some more with his sweet cousins.

The second part of our trip was just as fun when Jason arrived! We went to an Iowa Cubs game, more splash pads and my favorite weekend of the whole year, camping in Anamosa with my sweet friends. These beautiful ladies mean so much to me and our friendship just gets better and better as each year passes, we are a fine wine of friends. The weekend always fly by and before we even leave town, I find myself counting the days until I get to see these beautiful faces. I love these women for always loving me from afar. They have been such a rock for me as I miss my daughter and walk this foreign path of grief. I know that I can always count on them for a great hug, a belly full of laughs, even with tears in my eyes. 

Again, though, this was a tough trip and I was really missing Lily. I could picture her crawling and scooting all over the grass, loving the water, and laughing at how silly the big kids were acting. I overheard one of the big kids saying that it was the first year without a new baby...but the truth is, it wasn't. Lily was the new baby, she just wasn't there with us. It's moments like these that have me begging for answers. Why? Why didn't she get to be there? Why do I have to understand this type of loss? I miss her. I miss her so much and it doesn't matter where I physically am, either Iowa or Arizona, I am constantly aware that my daughter is missing. I am constantly aware that things are not as the should be.

But somehow, we continue to move forward...not onward or over, but forward. And moving forward is hard and slow. 

Lily's month

As I said before, when we received Lily's diagnosis, I feared every day she would come early. I remember being so happy when we made it to October, we made it to her birth month...and then all of a sudden it was October 31st and she made it quite known she was not ready. I wasn't either, but honestly, I was never going to be ready.

And almost one year later...I'm still not ready for this. I'm still not ready to live the rest of this life without her.

We are painfully aware every single day of all the milestones we are missing. If you have kids, you know. If you've filled a baby book, you know how overstuffed it should be right now...overflowing with all of your child's firsts. Her first roll over, first scoot, first crawl. Her first foods, teeth, and car rides. Her first smile,  her first giggle and words...her first "mama" and "dada".

All of these firsts that we've missed are so painful and heart wrenching, but the one I'm really not ready for is coming up fast. In 11 days it will be Lily's first birthday and I'm really not ready for that. I feel the world nudging me, telling me "it's been a year, you should be better now." While it feels like eternity since she's been in my arms, the pain and raw emotions feel very fresh. This wound hasn't even began to scab over.

Somehow, by the grace of God, we made it back here. Back to her birth month, one year later. I know people will want it to get easier for us from here on out. After all, we've already had our first everythings without her. We've had a first Thanksgiving, Christmas, our birthdays, and trips to Iowa, but it doesn't feel that way. Not even a little bit. It all still feels like the first day she was missing from my arms. It feels like that every day.

This morning I woke up dreading this month. This month that I once loved because it almost finally feels like Fall. A month that reminds us of all that we have to be thankful for. A month that begins with recognizing all the wonderful saints of our Church. The month I finally held my daughter in my arms after waiting so long.

But it's also the month I had to hand her over to a stranger. The month where I watched my husband smile through tears as he held his little girl. The month where Ted peeked over to get his only glimpse of his sister in this life. The month where the casket closed much too quickly. A month where I pretend to be thankful for all these precious moments, but truthfully I'm screaming inside at how unfair it all really is. 

And for the rest of my life, a month where I will be decorating a grave instead of a cake. A month where I will be picking out flowers instead of a birthday dress. A month where I only get to remember the few firsts I got instead of watching new ones each year. A month where I will be celebrating my daughter's first birthday without her in my arms...and everyone after.

How is it possible to ever be ready for that? 

Lily's Due Date

I took Bradley classes and read all the books. I know how truly insignificant a due date is. I also know how unlikely it is for a baby to actually be born on their due date (even though Ted only missed his by 26 minutes!)

I also know I never expected for Lily to even make it to her due date. But she did. And she made it for two more weeks.

One year ago, in the moment, the stress and anxiety was almost paralyzing. I didn't want to see anyone. I didn't want to do anything or leave my house. The word "normal" left my vocabulary. I had no idea what normal was anymore. I was anxious and afraid, but also filled with joy whenever I thought about holding Lily in my arms. The intensity and mix of emotions was overwhelming to say the least.

I never thought we would make it to our 40 week appointment, but we did. And then I was so frustrated. I truly thought she would be born by then and I was quick to ask about induction. Our midwife was amazing though. She reminded me right then and there that this was our time with Lily. She reminded me that Lily was still very much alive and she was letting me know every day how strong she was. She told me to do what we could to cherish this time with her. It was nothing that we imagined, but that didn't matter. We still had the opportunity to make the most of it.

The most amazing part of those last two weeks is that I got to spend them all with Jason and Ted. It was amazing to wake up in the morning and take an early walk with my husband to Starbucks. We spent a lot of mornings going to Mass and praying together. In those two weeks, I loved my husband so much more than I ever knew possible. He took care of me, he took care of our family. 

My mom was here to take care of us and Ted. My sweet friend Mandy came from Iowa just to spend time with me. We celebrated my dad's birthday. We went to baseball games and took Ted to the zoo. We dressed him up for Halloween and passed out candy. We played at the park. Jason and I sat by our fire and drank hot chocolate sharing the most intimate moments of our journey with Lily. 

We cried...a lot. We laid in bed and watched Lily dance and twirl all night long. We listened to her heartbeat...strong and steady as always. How was it possible that she would not be that strong when she was born? 

I find myself slipping back into that foggy haze of one year ago. I was living solely on grace and prayers. There's no other explanation for how we made it through those last few days/weeks leading up to her birth. For those two weeks I woke up every day eager to meet my daughter, but also fearing it would be the day I would say goodbye.

Some days it's hard to believe almost one year has passed. Other days I wonder if I will finally wake up from this dream I've been living for the last 12 months because honestly, most of the time, it doesn't even seem possible that I am living without my daughter.

I miss you Lily. More than I ever imagined possible. I miss your kicks. I miss seeing you dance in my belly sweet girl. I can't believe you are almost one. I would give anything to hold you or to feel you inside of me again. Every single day...every minute, every second, I miss you baby girl.

 40 weeks :)

Eleven months

Almost a year ago I wrote this, a letter to Ted about his baby sister Lily. It was one of the hardest letters I ever had to write. I told him how sorry I was that we would not get to keep his sister. I told him if love were enough we would. One year later, 11 months without Lily, and the ache in my heart, more than for myself, is for Ted missing his little sister. 

It's just not supposed to be this way.

My sweet Ted,

In two weeks you will be 2 1/2 and in one month Lily will be one. One year old in Heaven. When I dreamed of having children, I dreamed of you being best friends with your siblings. All close in age, one right behind the other in school. I dreamed of you sharing a room and keeping each other up at night. I dreamed of you sneaking out of your room to look for presents on Christmas Eve. I dreamed of you smothering her with sweet kisses. I dreamed of her eagerly trying to keep up with you. I dreamed of you protecting her, looking out for her, always with her best interest in mind. I dreamed of you sharing your hopes, your wishes, and your dreams with your sister. 

I never dreamed of this.

I never dreamed of a world where I was so torn between Heaven and Earth. I never dreamed of world where I could delight in the sweet little boy you are becoming, and all the while have tears streaming down my face yearning for your sister. I never dreamed my most cherish picture of you and Lily would be of you holding a photograph of her. I never dreamed you would never get to hold her. I never dreamed you would have to rely on our memories to know your sister. I never dreamed of celebrating your sister's first birthday in a cemetery. 

Almost 18 months ago, all of these dreams shattered right before my eyes. In the blink of an eye, the world I never dreamed of became my reality. Ted, I am so sorry. I am so sorry that you do not have your sister here with you. I am so sorry that you never got to hold her. I am so sorry that I could not save her. And if love were enough, I could have. But I want you to know more than anything that if I could do it all over again I would in a heartbeat, and I wouldn't change a thing.

Because I also never dreamed Heaven could kiss Earth. I never dreamed I could feel such tremendous grace as I held a perfect soul in my arms. I never dreamed that my love for my children could be this intense. I never dreamed I could love your dad so much through this grief. I never dreamed that I would truly see Jesus in the face of my daughter and my son. I never dreamed that you would have your very own personal saint to pray for you in Heaven. I never dreamed that my heart could simultaneously beam with pride and be swallowed with heartache at the sound of you saying her name. I never dreamed I would have such a clear vision of Lily dancing in the Resurrection. 

I never knew that grieving so intensely is a sign of loving so immensely.

One year later and I have another song for you Ted. I listen to this song and I think of the story you will get to tell because Lily is your sister. You will get to tell a story where grace wins every time you choose life. You will get to tell your own story, that even though you may not remember it, a story of the day Heaven reached down and touched the earth and your sister changed us all. I pray every day that this moment will resonate in your soul and that it will carry you through every tough time you may face. 

I love you Ted and I am so sorry you do not get to grow up with your sister, at least not the way I ever dreamed.

Love, Mom

If I told you my story

You would hear Hope that wouldn't let go

And if I told you my story

You would hear Love that never gave up

And if I told you my story

You would hear LIfe, but it wasn't mine

If I should speak then let it be

Of the grace that is greater than all my sin

Of when justice was served and where mercy wins

Of the kindness of Jesus that draws me in

Oh to tell you my story is to tell of Him

This is my story, this is my song
"My Song"