Some nights I cannot stop the tears that come. They may rush out of nowhere, or show up because of a soft and perfect song. Sometimes they are welcome and are accompanied by sweet memories of those brief moments.  They may come because another woman lost her baby the I recall that pain, and my heart BREAKS for her because she has to know it too. No matter the reason, sometimes the hurt just hits and there is nothing I can do but FEEL IT. And.it.still.hurts. I long to hold my daughters. I grieve for them each, in different ways and in different times. Sometimes the tears come so fast they burn my eyes and I'm not quick enough to stop them or hide them. Sometimes I don't care to do either. That's when I sit, just me and my tears and some music and just let it all out. I cry. A lot. And when I think I'm done, I might cry a little more. Then I will crawl into bed, next to the man I love most in this world, and I will fall asleep with his arm around me as I damped his chest.

 I'm not fishing for sympathy, I have a special group of ladies I can cry to anytime I need to. This is just a reminder. A reminder that this is never over. Often times the general public seems to think that it's all better and we've healed up nicely. That's just not true. While there is healing, we are never fully healed on this earth. There is a broken-ness inside that you can't see, as we keep it well hidden and share it with few.  The effects of baby/child loss is more far reaching than you can imagine, unless you wear these shoes, and I pray you never do. 

It's been nearly 4 years since I kissed my little girl goodbye. I laid Ila Claire's lifeless little body into the hands of a sweet and loving nurse and she walked away. With.my.baby. That moment, the memory of that moment nearly brings me to my knees.  The quiet was only broken by the click of the door and then my uncontrollable sobs. Finality. Pain. OH God that PAIN.  I thought that was going to be the worst of it. 

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.

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.