Unexpected Moments

It has been so long since my last posting. I've stayed pretty quiet, and to myself, for the most part. Lots of things have been going on, and I have stayed busy, but in reality, I feel like I'm standing in one spot. I've been standing in that spot for almost 2 years now, while everyone else is whizzing by me. Occasionally  I see people I know, and they stop for conversation, and then, off they go again. I want to move, but I can't. I want to scream, "STOP!! I need you!!", but I can't. I just stand there, crying quietly. My grief has caused me to feel like I'm standing still. And if I don't release it, I will only continue to stand still. So here goes:

Things have been eating at me for a while now, and I just really want to say something, but I don't. I'm so afraid that what I say will offend, hurt or distance people that I care about. I feel, lately, that I can't be as honest as I once was. Did someone say something, to make me feel afraid to be honest? No. I think it's human nature, that when you're sad about something, for a long time, to think that people don't want to hear it anymore. The reality is, they do. However, they too, are getting frustrated, that they can't help you. They want to be able to fix it, so you can heal and keep moving with life, but they can't. They just say the same things over and over, and hope that one of the times they say the particular phrase that they say, will click on the switch in your brain, and it will fix your problem. They hope that one of the hugs that they give you, will help you to cry on them, and then you will feel release from the burden of sadness. I am afraid that people are getting tired of the same subject over and over again. I am afraid that the yo-yo ride of emotions that I am on, they are tired of being on, so they've gotten off and have moved on. 1 1/2 years is a long time to be sad about a the death of a person you never met. 1 1/2 years is a long time to stand still on a long and windy road. 1 1/2 years is a long time to beg and plead for the sadness to go away, for the pain to go away.

One thing that has angered me a lot lately is when people use the, "you just......." and they finish it off with whatever prescribed emotional thing that helped them get through the loss of their ear ring, or the loss of their pet hamster. I would love to have whatever I "just" have to do actually work, but it doesn't. I would love to be able to "just" take some anti-depressants, and I would be CURED! I would love to "just" work out more, and that would be my release. I would love to "just" go talk to someone, and that'll make you feel better.........I would love to "just get over it, and stop it."..............I would love that. Those really are all things people have said to me. Not out of any ill towards me, or anger, but because they are frustrated that what they are trying to do for me, isn't working. That's all. It's ok. I understand their frustration more than anyone.......BECAUSE IT'S ME! The thing that I "just" have to do, I have realized, is "just" keep going. When emotions blindside me, because of some unexpected, out of the blue event that happens, I need to roll with it, cry about it, grieve about it, and then get up, dry my eyes and keep going. I can't run away from it. I've got to face life. I've got to be my own cheerleader, because no one else can do it for me. I have to give myself my own pep talks, because no one else can or will. I'm the only one that will, consistently, be there for me. I am the one that knows me the best.

There have been a few unexpected events that have happened, recently. I thought I was fine, I thought I was happy, and life was good. And then, BAM! I'm at Joanns. You know, the craft store. I'm there looking for fabric for some baby blankets I'm making, along with a quilt for an event, and I look up, and there is the fabric I put in Lilia's blanket, that matched Eleanor's blanket that she was buried in. If you don't remember, Lilia is my niece that was born a month or so after I lost Eleanor. Lilia's baby blanket was the first one I made after Eleanor. I wanted to put a piece of Ellie in that blanket, and I happened to have some material that resembled the fabric that was used for Ellie's blanket. I started to well up. I stood still, mesmerized by this fabric, with quiet tears running down my face, in the middle of the isle, just staring at this fabric. My kids were running around the isle, and laughing, completely oblivious to the fact that I was entranced by this fabric, and that it just made my heart explode, and my body was completely numb. After a few minutes, I heard a baby cry, and it made whatever part of my heart that was left, shatter into a million pieces, because that night, when I had Ellie, I wanted to prove everyone wrong. I wanted to hear her cry so badly, so that I could show them that she was fine, and not dead. But she didn't.

As I stood in the isle, crying, and staring, I continued to hear the crying. I finally blinked, and wiped my face off. I turned my head, just in time to see Taylor wrapping himself in some red sequence fabric, saying, "I'm Red Batman", and realized, it was Elliott crying. He had lost his pacifier. I put the pacifier back in his mouth, and covered him with his blanket, where he continued to smoosh it all over his face and finally go back to sleep. I unwrapped "Red Batman" and got control again, of them, and continued on my way.

The next moment came on Sunday. This last Sunday. We arrived at my In-Laws house, for our usual Sunday dinner. Cecilia, my sister in law, and Lilia's mom, and Lincoln, Allan's brother, and Cecilia's husband, had arrived before us. As I walked in last, I heard Allan say, "Oh wow! You've been having contractions! How far apart are they?" and "So you could have this baby tonight?" As I heard all of this, I could feel my stomach just tighten up, and the nerves in my arms, hands and legs, start to jump around uncontrollably. I came in, and we sat down and I immediately did my thing, of staying quiet, and focusing on getting the kids fed, and keeping them quiet. Basically, avoiding any eye contact with Cecilia or her belly, and avoided any conversation with them. That night, I walked outside a lot, I changed my focus to anything but having conversation with anyone. I was short, and busy. I just wanted everything to be done, so I could leave. The pain and anxiety I was feeling for those 3 hours was indescribable. So, I'm not even going to try to explain it. I just wanted to go away, and I wanted it to stop. This was a situation, however, that I really thought I'd be ok with. I mean, when Lilia was born, that was hard, and I was jealous and angry and all of the expected things, but I really thought I'd be just fine with this. Apparently, I was wrong. Just days before, I had given all of the clothes that were bought for Ellie, that I received at the baby shower, to Cecilia for her new baby. She was amazing, receiving them. She was so sweet and understanding, and even asked my permission to use one of the outfits as the baby's take-home outfit. I thought the day of giving her those clothes would be hard. I wasn't as hard as watching her in labor.

Scarlett Taylor Rogers

When I found out, the next morning, that Cecilia had given birth to baby Scarlett that morning, I was relieved, but also, so jealous that she got to have her baby girl, 2 of them! I was jealous that she can get pregnant so easily, and hold on to them so easily. I was jealous that she doesn't have to take any medication to keep a pregnancy, or have that stress and burden for 9 months, that if she misses a day, that it might take away her baby. I was so happy for them, I was. I love them so much, but I was so jealous of them, in that moment. Today, the jealousy has faded. I am so happy that things went smoothly for them, and they have a healthy baby girl at home now, who they can watch grow up, learn to crawl, learn to laugh, watch them make funny faces the first time they try new foods, watch Lilia learn how to be a big sister, and help those sisters develop a strong bond. I can't wait to hold her, and take pictures of her, and be there to watch her grow up in this family.

While this happiness for them is prominent, there is still that lingering sadness inside. I am afraid it will always be there. Just waiting for the next unexpected moment to bring it out. I hope, with time, those unexpected moments will go a little more smooth, and there will be less frantic cleaning to mask how much I'm hurting.

Right now, I am doing ok. Right now, I am learning so much, still. I am so appreciative of the 5 beautiful children that I have, and am loving watching 4 of them grow and learn and be the crazy, silly spirits that they are. I am loving my husband so much more, and I am learning how to let him into my head. (I have realized, recently, that I don't talk to him, much, about any of these emotions, or how things effect me. He is also one of those people that I assume, doesn't want to hear about it anymore.) I am loving the few friends, that I have left, that have been on this, almost 2 year, journey with me. I am loving the beautiful home that we are in. I am loving the new addition to our family (we just got a new dog yesterday), and helping him feel part of the family. I never want anyone to feel like my life is doom and gloom, and that's all I see. What I want people to see is that my life is wonderful, and I am richly blessed, even more than I feel I am deserving of, but it is a struggle to always see that happiness.

Next Sunday is General Conference. Lately, the people who have taught in church, keep saying to watch General Conference with a purpose. Like, attending the temple, we should have a prayer in our hearts, a desire for an answer or a desire for some guidance. This time around, I am going to watch conference, with a desire to find some peace. I want to feel like the battle between my happiness and my sadness isn't as much of a struggle as it has become. I want happiness to be easy, not work. I feel like I don't share with people how hard it is for me, and how much pain I am in every moment of every day, and how much I have to talk myself into living life, instead of standing still. Moving forward, just taking those steps, feels like I have 30 cinder blocks tied to each of my feet, and I'm trying as hard as I can shuffle my feet forward. I want to know how I can just be happy. I am not naive to the fact that I will have sad moments, and still have those reminders, but I want to still find that peace in each moment, where I know my Heavenly Father is holding me, and helping me through it all. I want to feel strong again. I know He is with me always, but sometimes, the pain and sadness is so strong, that I forget to realize that, and let him have some of it to carry for me. I know, without a doubt, I will find my answer.

This week, I have learned that there will always be unexpected challenges, but with time, and with faith, I will be able to handle those things with more grace, more peace, and more happiness. Right now, I am grateful for those experiences, because I know I am just becoming better because of them, as long as I just dive in, experience the hard stuff, and learn from those times. How can we learn if we continually stand still, or run away from anything that might be hard? Because of the difficult things that I have encountered, I have learned forgiveness, true forgiveness, of myself, for even things I know I didn't cause, and for others. I have learned how to talk to my Heavenly Father, and know that he is always listening. I have learned more about a daughter that I have never met. I have learned how to talk to my husband, and know that he truly wants to hear me. I have learned that people want to help everyone, but they just don't know how. I have learned that the best way to help someone is to just show up, even if they say they don't need you. Just be there, always. In any way you can, whether it is a text, phone call, lunch, vacation, whatever. Just let someone know they are a thought of yours.

I know I chose a harder path, but I know its the one that, in the end, is the one that is right. I wouldn't change any part of it.

Hard Day

Sunday, well, it definitely is described by the title of this post. It keeps happening too, out of no where. I think I'm fine, then, BAM, it hits me.

The night before last, Sunday, I went to our Sunday dinner at Allan's parents house. However, Allan left right after church to go to training in San Jose, for Adobe. (Yes, I cried right after he left, because I missed him as he was pulling out of the garage.) So, I went solo, with my 4 kids. It was a great night. Allan's parents had all of the girl stuff at their house still, from when Ellie passed, so we pulled the girl bin out. I was able to go through Sarah's old clothes, with Cecilia, so she could take them for the new baby coming. I loved going through the clothes, and remembering when Sarah used to wear certain outfits, and how cute she looked in everything, and how her personality, even then, matched each one of those spunky outfits. On the way home from Sunday dinner, I had decided to offer Cecilia the few clothes I have left of Eleanor's. I had received a bunch of clothes at Ellie's baby shower, the day that I gave birth to my sweet angel. I had tried so many times to give them away, or just give them to Goodwill or the DI, and I just couldn't. Cecilia had given birth to Lilia, just a month after I had Ellie, and I even tried then, to give her those clothes, and I couldn't. I just held on to that small bin of clothes, socks, blankets, binkies, and other things, still with tags, and in their wrapping, because it felt like her. I had received these thoughtful gifts for her, and somehow, I associated those items, with her, and I couldn't let them go.

After making the decision to offer these items to Cecilia, I called Allan to check with him, and see if he thought that was a good idea, or if he thought I should keep them a bit longer. We have been trying to decide if we would have more kids or not, and if we did, and it was a girl, then we wanted to use them (that's another blog post, HA!). He thought it was actually a great idea, and said to go for it. I text messaged Cecilia and told her the situation, and told her that I understood if she thought it was too weird to take them, but I would love for her to have them. She got back to me, and basically, she said she was honored that we thought of her, and would love to take them, and use them. Immediately, I had a terrible pit in my stomach. This was the last thing I needed to do. And I just thrust myself into it.


I got home that night, put all of the kids in bed, went to the garage, and pulled down the plastic tub that had her stuff in it. I brought that, a garbage bag of girl shoes, and a tub of girl sheets and blankets up to my room. I opened up the tub, and there were the cute gifts that were given to me, for Eleanor. I pulled out the clothes, still on their hangers, and still with tags hanging from them, and looked at each outfit. I remembered everything from that day. I remembered who gave me each item, thanking them, and even what bags the gifts came in. I remembered.....ugh, I remembered everything. And I just broke down and cried. I felt like these things were her, and it was the last piece of her, that I had, and I was just going to give it away. In reality, I have things from her, in her big hope chest, but for some reason, I was attached to these items, too. I wanted to take each item from that bin, and put them in her hope chest. I pulled out some receiving blankets that I had gotten as a gift, still in their package. The name of the line was Ellie. No one knew that was the name we had chosen for her, yet. We had just decided on that name a few days prior. I remember pulling the blankets out of the gift bag, and laughing because it was her name, at the babyshower. I saw that name, on those blankets, and I felt like it was her. I held that package of receiving blankets as tight as I could, and as close to my chest as I could, and just broke down and cried. In that moment of sobbing, and physically hurting, I wished my husband was there with me. I wished my sweet sister was there with me. I wished I didn't move so far away from everyone I knew, because I wished my wonderful best friend was there with me. I just wished someone was there with me, holding my hand while I pulled things out, and remembered. I wished that someone was there, holding me while I cried on their shoulder as hard as my body would allow. I wished that this didn't hurt as much, still, as it did that day.

Finally, I dried my face, put the items back in the bin, got up, walked in my kids' rooms, and quietly kissed their foreheads. I went back in my room, turned the lights off and went to bed. I felt grateful for all of my children, for my husband, and for my friends and family. But, I felt lonely, and quiet. Not a good kind of quiet either. The kind of quiet, where you are very introverted and you're just trying to talk yourself out of the feelings of deserving this torture.

Ultimately, I am glad that I can give this gift to Cecilia, because I don't have memories of Ellie wearing these clothes, or using these blankets or wearing these headbands or socks. So when her baby wears them, it won't hurt to see them on her. And, I know that Cecilia understands how hard it is for me to give them to her, and let someone else enjoy them, since I didn't get to enjoy them on my daughter. I'm so glad that she understands that, and is appreciative of that. I think it would make it that much harder to give them away, if the person I gave them to, didn't understand those things. I'm grateful for the opportunity to push myself harder, and try to keep moving, and I'm glad that I'm seizing that opportunity, even though it feels like a gut wrenching, impossible task. I know it's good for me.


At the baby shower, my little sister, Christine, took some pictures on her cell phone, since I didn't bring my camera, because it was a surprise shower, so I didn't know to. A few weeks after I lost Ellie, she sent these pictures to me. They are, besides Scott's photo's of Ellie at the hospital, some of my favorite pictures, but are some of the hardest for me to look at. But, I wanted to share them, because I don't think I ever have.

Becky (the one getting ready to sit on the chair), Dora, Sarah, Heather, Norma, and Gina

A super cute cake my mom got from Retro Bakery

Cute cupcakes to go with the cake

Happy me

Sarah was so excited to help me open the presents for her new baby, and see what she could dress her in

A present for Sarah and her new baby sister

Here is the present for her and her new sister. I did save this onesie, of course, and put it in Ellie's hope chest.

My cute girl

There she is. My Ellie Belly, inside my belly. Hard for me not to think, when looking at this picture, that she was already gone, and I didn't know....and then I cry, because the guilt comes in.

Depressed

It's been quite a while since my last posting. Longer than usual. After the move, a lot of emotions came up, that were a little unexpected.

When we decided to move to this new house, I was uneasy about it. I knew it would be what is best for our family, but it would mean that I would probably be losing all of my friends that I had made. There are a few that have really meant the world to me, and one in particular who has become one of my best friends. But, when you move 30 minutes away, in this town, people decide that you live too far, so you generally lose touch. I know I sound like a 12 year old who doesn't want to move, but these people helped me through the hardest time in my life, and continued to be there afterwards. It's hard for me to know that I will be giving that up.

Losing friends was a big deal for me, but there was a bigger issue, that I wasn't really aware of, until recently. The house we moved into is a monster of a house. It is fully furnished to the nines. It is really beautiful. Before, I thought I was uneasy about it just because I was embarrassed by it. We know a lot of people who are struggling financially, and then we are lucky enough to have a great job and now this big beautiful house. Stuff and things are not important to me. But, my family is. And this is what's best. The embarrassment was part of the issue. The other part of it, I just realized, is that I don't feel worthy or deserving of this amazing gift. Deep down, I feel like, because I have been pregnant so much, that I should've known that something was wrong with Ellie, and that I could've done something earlier, and she would be here. I feel that, because I didn't notice she hadn't been moving, or moving less, that I killed her. Because the doctors couldn't find anything wrong with her, and no answers as to why she died, then I take responsibility. And because of that, I feel like a murderer, and not deserving of anything good. Even with the miscarriage, it was, in my nutty mind, confirmation that I don't deserve anything good. I felt like I deserved for that to happen.

The last month, I have been so down. So depressed. Much more than ever, and lately, It's because of Ellie. I can't think about her, without feeling the softness of her squishy cheeks on the back of my hand. Or, feel her black curly hair running between my fingers. I can still feel her chubby fingers brushing over my fingers. This house is just a few blocks from her. Before, she was so far away, and I couldn't visit her as often (yes, yes, I know It's not really her, but you can't really make a mother feel that way). But, now, she's so close, and I'm so busy, and I still can't visit her. But, because she's so close, and I drive by the cemetery so often, I think about her more. And it brings those feelings up again, a lot.

The other night, I emailed Amy some of these feelings, and she encouraged me to share them with Allan. I never have before, because he will worry about me, and I don't want to burden him with worry. He already has so much going on, and that he's stressed about, I didn't want to add more. Well, we went to dinner, and I did tell him. He didn't try to console me, which was good. He just listened and said he understood. It was perfect. He suggested we go to visit Ellie that night. We got to the cemetery, and we stood there, just staring at her head stone. Then, I just broke down. It was hurting me so much. And I mean, actual, physical pain. I was standing there, inches from my baby girl, and I couldn't just pick her up, and snuggle her, and love on her. My heart physically hurt. It felt like a huge magnet, just pulling me towards her, and someone trying to yank me away. It was a horrible feeling. And I just wanted to kneel down, cry my heart out, and say, "I'm sorry", over and over. I wanted to say this to her, my family and especially my sweet husband.

There is no resolution to these feelings. They are feelings I have every day. Some days are better than others. All I can do is hope that it gets better with time.