Tuesday, July 16, 2013

"Look for the girl with the sun in her eyes, and she's gone."-Beatles

Although, I have been very busily keeping my current journey somewhat public, I thought it would be much easier to move my thoughts to a blog space. Since Saturday July 13th, I have been in labor with my 21w 5 day along baby girl, until the littlest Lucy lost all odds she had been fighting for 13 weeks on July 15.

Many times I see blogs of mourning parents who have lost children, and you think there is NO fucking way that happens here. This shit just doesn't happen to me. I am a good person, I very rarely get mad at my children, I like strawberry ice cream, I believe in good karma, and I brake for squirrels. Hell, I cry at Hallmark Commercials, and laugh at Austin Powers movies. (I know people, but Mike Myers gets me)
This pregnancy was planned, well mostly, considering it was way quicker than planned and I blame my husband. I ate gluten free and healthy. I had only gained three pounds, and I had taken all my vitamins. At 9 weeks 5 days the apocalypse started with blood clots which we thought were a miscarriage, and sent us into a whirlwind of doctors visits, and hospital rooms that I would never wish on any family. No one could really know what was going with her in there, some people thought they knew, I saw midwifes, doctors, and specialist alike, got NO answers for Lucy until after she was born. I was on Bedrest and Off, and On, and Off. No Sex, No Moving, Ok, Now you can do what you want! Ok sorry, no sex.... DAMN IT!

She was very much wanted, and very much a part of our little family. So we tried to follow all the "experts" directions. This family never lacks, but misses the love of half of its counterparts.

So, she's here. Well, she was. She was here for 1 hour and 16 minutes, laying on my chest. Breathing as a reflex, not as an actual function, heart beating only because she was strong, sucking her thumb and peeing on her Mom. Damn it! She was ALL there. She was mine and she showed me for over one hour what it was like to be her MOM. You know what? Every minute of it, I loved it. I held her the entire time, and let my chest and my warm beating heart be her final resting place. My daughter lived inside of me, fully and strongly, and died on me. What a privilege that is as a human mother to be able to have your little ones whole life revolve around your love. Her Daddy was right there the whole time and we just enjoyed her every moment. Not thinking about anything but enjoying her. Once declared that she was too small to save and no longer living did she get weighed and measured, like every normal birthed child. Put into a special bonneted blanket and handed back to us until we deemed fit.

When is that time? Honestly, when do you think you have given this kid enough your love, respect, and time, after their life was shortened by at least 80 years. That time, is really never. You only just decide that its kind of ok to call the funeral home to take her after you are starting to feel numb, only to lose your shit when they get there. You just met your child, now you are making "arrangements" for them. Something you should never have to do for your own child, EVER! I don't care how many times it happens, or how prevalent it really is, it isn't something anyone should HAVE to do!

You can see, I'm angry, and you better bet your bippy, I am upset. It's my first full day without her, and it hurts. I'm done searching for answers as to why, because I know this will only make me mad as a hatter. There is zero time for that! ask Sweet Brown. But what I do is grieve. I grieve in waves, I grieve in different ways, and I grieve with different people. Making myself a space to grieve is only a start. If it never gets read, I am ok with its release. See, I am Lucy's Mom, and I own that. No one will ever get to take that away from me, and what a wonderful feeling that is. There is no one to be mad at or no one to blame, there is only loving her. That is ALL there is.

Now my physical Lucy is no longer with me, I can't rub my favorite spot between her eyes on top of her prevalent nose. Or kiss her cold forehead. Or make sure my tears don't get on her blankie. Or make sure her lifeless body stay's "warm" by swaddling her 14 oz's in a blanket made for 9lbs. These things were taken from me before I was ready! I could never be ready! I could stare at her face every day. I wanted her! GOD, I wanted her. I wanted her SO bad. I deserved her, like any mother deserves their children. And, I miss my one day old spirit, like I miss someone I have know for over 20 years. I only just met her, but she was mine to have, and to hold, through sickness and health, as I promised her soul the day I married her father. Lucy is our Legacy, and she has proven to be with Diamonds.

 Her Daddy Rocking Her For Last Time
 Our Last Moments Together
Sisters Forever
Dedicated To MY Littlest Baby Girl.


  1. Perfectly said, momma. You know I followed you everyday of Lucy's journey. The baby I couldn't have, you were my baby momma! (remember us joking about that?) I was so excited for you and Jeremy from the night you inboxed me to tell me you were pregnant! I have prayed for you and Lucy every night, for both of you to stay strong and healthy. And now, my friend, I pray you stay strong and keep Lucy's legacy going until the two of you are joined again. Love you cupycake nene!!

  2. Beautifully heartfelt. Thanks for sharing something so personal. I saw your first posts when you learned you were pregnant...and saw updates throughout...and now shed tears. Hugs to you and your family.

  3. Words are so difficult for many of us at times like this. Your words are amazing, strong, caring. Thank you for being you. Hold your family close, I know you are. I pray for you, your husband and your children to find peace.

    1. Bonnie,

      Words are all I have to properly grieve through what goes on in my head. It's what I have. I have to use the tools I have to get through it. Or it becomes lost, and I refuse to let Lucy's love, and loved to be lost.

  4. So I may be reading this and fighting back the urge to bawl my eyes out right now. Laying on the floor next to my own daughter's bed as she gradually falls asleep to one of her movies.

    Things like this are reminders that no matter what we may think, nothing is ever guaranteed, and that unfortunately includes each tomorrow. For ourselves. For our friends. For our family. Little miss Lucy sadly ran out of tomorrows, but she still has a someday.

    Someday she will be reunited in full with her mommy and daddy, and everything will have come full circle. Until then, even in her very brief time on this earth, she's left a legacy and touched the hearts and emotions of more people than she'll ever know.

    1. You are exactly right Jeremy,

      Ever day, each moment, has to be the best day ever, it may be all we have.


  5. We have never met - but I feel what you feel... God never gave me a child.... so through this I felt like hey someone else is getting the joy I missed.
    God Bless you and and enjoy your husband and children.

  6. As someone who knows this loss well, I commend you for sharing your story, and Lucy's story. It's amazing how much you will cling to what you have, after what you've lost. You're children that you've been blessed with become your reason for being. I know how hard these questions are that you ask, and I've struggled with them for years. Combine that with a sad fate of infertility and I will always wonder, and gaze wistfully at the mothers with daughters, and apologize in advance for my son's future girlfriends and wife. :-) I went through the sad farewell over 8 years ago, and still can't bring myself to be around newborn babies. I don't do babies, pregnant women, etc. It hasn't left me, and never will. I found comfort in the gift of being able to see my daughter's face, hold her, and give her a name. I wish I were there to hold your hand, and hug you, but all I can do is think of you, pray for you, and share these words digitally, attempting comfort across the miles. Hang in there. You are an amazingly strong woman and mother.The only reason I ever could come up with was to increase my level of appreciation of those that I had, and to strengthen my character, and to share the story of the loss. All of these, I could do without, but I wouldn't give up the grief as long as I was able to meet her. Love and strength to you.

  7. Oh, my heart. I only know you through Twitter, and I was heading there to check on your stream and see how you were doing when I saw my friend Erin post the link to here. I am so sorry, Renee. I admire your grace and your strength more than I can say, and I'll be thinking of you and your beautiful family.

  8. Words are never enough at times like this; you obviously have an army of people around you who care and that will help. I can't imagine the things you are experiencing and wish you all the strength I can offer.

  9. Your journey has touched me incredibly. You have shown strength and Grace through it all. My thoughts and prayers have been with you since you first announced you were expecting. I am so sorry for your extreme loss and will continue to pray for strengrh and healing for your family.

    Jennifer Shackelford

  10. Oh my heart... I am so sorry... I ache for you all and wish you peace in your hearts.

  11. My precious Renee - I cannot tell you I understand how you feel, no one can unless they have lost a child. But know that I am continuing to pray for you and Jeremy and the kids as you walk through the sorrow. I am still picturing your mommy rocking your precious Lucy - what a glorious time for her. You will never get over this but you will get through this. I pray for your continued strength and healing, both physically and mentally. I love you honey. Let me know if you need anything - Michelle