Thursday, July 18, 2013

"When you get what you want but not what you need" -Coldplay

The phone rang and I thought it was the doctor calling me, but the voice on the other end was not as perky as I had originally thought. The woman on the other end with a very sweet tone said, "Mrs. Lawrence?" As I fumbled a bit because, I am just getting used to being that person. "Yes Ma'am it is." "This is Megan at Amos Family..."

The rest was a blur, my heart dropped into my stomach. It's a day early, I wasn't ready! I don't know what to do, or say, I just look around at the people around me and look for guidance. At this point I can not make a clear decision on what day it is, or what time I can have a private moment with my husband to pick up my daughters remains.

REMAINS! What a horrible word...what do you mean remains? What remains of my infant child? NO! Its not what remains! It is HER! All of her. My Lucielle Diane Lawrence... her entire little self.

I spent the rest of the day until 4:30 distracting my mind, because I am not sure what is going to happen when I get there to get my baby. It was very technical, and informal. The funeral home is always a quiet place, and extremely somber. We walked into a room full of people working in small cubical areas with glass fronts. As we walked in, the whole room stopped and just looked at us. Their faces say it all. "Oh, there is the poor couple picking up the 4:30 cremation "BABY LAWRENCE" that is written on our white board, that's too bad"

We give an obligatory smile at the room, and say we are here to pick up our little baby Lucielle... and Megan springs into action. Taking us out into the funeral home with a tiny white box, the bonneted blanket we sent Lucy off in, and some paperwork. It hadn't set in yet, because I had to "sign" for my own child. Signing for the right to have my baby back. Each little detail of this seems so big, that dropping my signature on a piece of paper feels as if I am writing a novel with inkwell and pen. As I am doing this she hands Lucielle to Jeremy and I can hear him start to cry. His body shaking and holding breaths coming from his nose because his lips are pursed just so that a wail won't intrude the still air.

As I look up, Jeremy can't contain the tears and we slowly walk towards the door. At this point we are so weak and the world is so surreal, the door doesn't budge open. The muggy air slaps our face as we take our little girl out into the world for the first time... Embracing and crying without a care of who's watching, we are oblivious.

He sets Lucielle in my lap, pressing her to my tummy to keep her tight in the car. I look down at this tiny white box. My daughter is in a BOX. Her name is spelled wrong, and she is in a box. As a parent, you want to spend your time teaching your children they don't belong in a box. That they are creative in their own right, independent, and DAMN IT ...their own person. Children do not belong in a box. MY Lucy... left me a beautiful little girl who should have had an entire life time ahead of her, and NOW she is in a WHITE BOX.

Of course, the sweet people at Amos, with beautiful intentions cremated our angel for free as a courtesy service for premature babies. What a wonderful service to people who are hurting. But damn it, I didn't want this story! I didn't ask for this story, and I want it re-written. I didn't ask to have my daughter in a box, I asked to have her for always, only till she had to put me in a box, like it is intended so. I need her, I want her, and dear lord, NOT IN A BOX.

As I cry out for her, and declare to whomever is listening to me, that I could have learned whatever lesson Lucy's death was suppose to bring me, and that this is the NOT the story I wanted to write. I don't need it to happen like this. Begging... I promise I will learn the lesson! Just bring her back! Just bring her back to me...

Lucy's reunited with her family. Not how I intended her to be, but how it must be. In a temporary white box, with her name misspelled...  Home.

When you lose something you can't replace...When you love someone but it goes to waste.
Could it be worse?-ColdPlay



  1. Oh my precious NeNe. I thought I was done crying. I have tried so hard these last few days to be my cheerful self. I even tried being the ass that i can be when things do not go right at work. But I cannot be an ass and I find myself needing to be left alone as I reflect on the last few days and I am somber. I have Lucy's star certificate laying near me on my desk next to her beautiful sister and brother and I reflect on the little "Diamond" that is and always will be in grandpa's heart. She will shine for me when I feel dark and forever shine in grandpa's eyes. I hurt because never could a father imagine his little girl having to go through such pain. A father is supposed to be able to shield from the pain and hurt and now I am helpless to take the hurt away. I love you with all of my heart "stink" Love Dad

    1. Dad,

      I think in talking to you yesterday, I learned that you were right. Each day our story is anew. That even though we learn from what happens the day before. We only have today. Keeping Lucy's spirit alive inside of me is the greatest present she has given me. She in one hour... to three days makes me want to be a better person. I know my time here on earth has been a struggle at times but, I know there is greatness that has yet to be untapped, and Lucy is opening that for me. Greatness is being a mother, and being HER mother.

      I love you.. One things for sure, I am so happy first Legacy of our Lucy is bring us all together, and I vow that shall never change.


  2. And my heart breaks again all over for you and Jeremy. I am so sorry. This is not how it is supposed to be. It is unfair and wrong. My thoughts are with you constantly.