My New Normal - author unknown

Normal is having tears waiting behind every smile when you realize someone important is missing from all the important events in your family’s life.

Normal for me is trying to decide what to take to the cemetery for Birthdays, Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Years, Valentine’s Day, July 4th and Easter.

Normal is reliving that day continuously through your eyes and mind.

Normal is every happy event in my life always being backed up with sadness lurking close behind, because of the hole in my heart.

Normal is staring at every baby who looks like she is my baby’s age. And then thinking of the age she would be now and not being able to imagine it. Then wondering why it is even important to imagine it, because it will never happen.

Normal is telling the story of your child’s death as if it were an everyday, commonplace activity, and then seeing the horror in someone’s eyes at how awful it sounds. And yet realizing it has become a part of my “normal”.

Normal is each year coming up with the difficult task of how to honor my baby's memory and her birthday and survive these days.

Normal is my heart warming and yet sinking at the sight of something special that my baby would have loved, but how she is not here to enjoy it.

Normal is having some people afraid to mention my baby.

Normal is making sure that others remember her.

Normal is after the funeral is over everyone else goes on with their lives, but we continue to grieve our loss forever.

Normal is weeks, months, and years after the initial shock, the grieving gets worse sometimes, not better.

Normal is not listening to people compare anything in their life to this loss, unless they too have lost a child. NOTHING. Even if your child is in the remotest part of the earth away from you – it doesn’t compare. Losing a parent is horrible, but having to bury your own child is unnatural.

Normal is trying not to cry all day, because I know my mental health depends on it.

Normal is realizing I do cry everyday.

Normal is being impatient with everything and everyone, but someone stricken with grief over the loss of your child.

Normal is a new friendship with another grieving mother, talking and crying together over our children and our new lives.

Normal is not listening to people make excuses for God. “God may have done this because…” I love God, I know that my baby is in heaven, but hearing people trying to think up excuses as to why babies were taken from this earth is not appreciated and makes absolutely no sense to this grieving mother.

Normal is wondering this time how many children you will tell a stranger that you have, because you will never see this person again and it is not worth explaining that my baby is in heaven. And yet when you say you have no children to avoid that problem, you feel horrible as if you have betrayed your bab.

Normal is knowing I will never get over this loss, in a day or a million years.

And last of all, Normal is hiding all the things that have become “normal” for you to feel, so that everyone around you will think that you are “normal”.

"Welcome Home"

     Today while cleaning off my desk I found the "Welcome Home" banner the kids made. There's a story behind this banner. When Joey was in the hospital the first time in July they made this banner and hung it across the kitchen, it said Welcome Home across the top and attached to the bottom was another piece of paper that said Joey. It hung in the kitchen for a few days, when I went to throw it away they said I couldn't. They were so proud of themselves, they said they made it so that when the baby was born they could take Joey's name off and put hers on, that way according to Bubba they didn't have to do the work twice....always thinking. While it breaks my heart to know that our baby girl is never coming "home" to our house, it comforts me to know that she is home with Jesus and someday I will hold her in my arms again.

A Pair of Shoes

I found this on another website....

"A Pair of Shoes"
author unknown

I am wearing a pair of shoes.
They are ugly shoes.
Uncomfortable shoes.
I hate my shoes.
Each day I wear them, and each day I wish I had another pair.
Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step.
Yet, I continue to wear them.
I get funny looks wearing these shoes. They are looks of sympathy.
I can tell in others eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs.
They never talk about my shoes.
To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable.
To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them.
But, once you put them on, you can never take them off.
I now realize that I am not the only one who wears these shoes.
There are many pairs in this world.
Some women are like me and ache daily as they try and walk in them.
Some have learned how to walk in them so they don’t hurt quite as much.
Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go by before they think
about how much they hurt.
No woman deserves to wear these shoes.
Yet, because of these shoes I am a stronger woman.
These shoes have given me the strength to face anything.
They have made me who I am.
I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child.

Giovanna's Story

      Giovanna's story begins on January 1, 2010...with two lines, what a great way to start the New Year! After having a miscarriage in Nov we couldn't have been more excited and cautious. This time there were going to be no disappointments to our other children, we were being extra careful and waiting until the end of the first trimester to tell them. It's not easy keeping a secret from four noisy kids but we did it. Of course Nick and I went through the usual debate of finding out what our baby was going to be...I told him it doesn't matter what you say I know its a girl and on April 1st we found out I was right. The pregnancy progressed without any physical complications aside for the usual heartburn and sore back. By the end of Aug I was more then ready to meet my baby girl. The kids started back to school and one week turned into two, due date came and gone and still no baby. I had an appointment on Thurs Sept. 9th at which Sandy (my midwife) asked if I was ready for an induction, which I was more then ready for. She wanted to induce my Tues Sept 14th and I said no, she'd have to do it another day b/c Joey had a follow-up scheduled with the liver surgeon, so we settled on Thurs Sept 16th....little did I know Giovanna had a schedule of her own. I woke up around 5:30 on Tues Sept 14th having contractions. I told Nick I thought I might be in labor but wasn't sure (after all it was only my 5th baby) after some debating we decided it was best for him to call off work. All of the kids awoke early that morning I guess due to the excitement Joey insisted on pancakes while I finished packing their bags for grandmas. Nick took Bailee to the bus around 6:40 and that's when my water broke, while getting the kids their school clothes. I knew something wasn't right b/c my water was green. I had already had a call into the doctor to let them know that we were heading to the hospital. I remember on the way to drop the kids off at my moms how excited they were...talking about coming to see the baby as soon as school was over and I told them who knows, I might not have had her by then. They couldn't wait to meet their new baby sister; I think Jaden and Joey were especially excited.

Where to begin....

I'm searching for something to help me in my grieving so I figured I'd give blogging a try. It's been 5 weeks and 1 day since we said hello and good-bye to our precious angel. Never in a million years did I think that I would be a member of this club, a club I never really gave much thought to until I gained my membership, a club that we all wish never even existed.