I am always yours

I was quite decided this time. I wasn't going to make a silly slideshow and I wasn't going to cry. This is the 9th time I've celebrated Heather's birthday without her, surely by now I know how to stay strong. Surely by now I should be "over it" or something. I have 4 beautiful kids noising up my house and another one punching me in the ribs, I have more joy than so many ever get to experience, more than I can contain or describe. So this time I would simply acknowledge the date, have a cake or something, dwell on the beautiful memories and on all I have.

We are without a working van at the moment, so I've been stuck in the house for 2 weeks now. I've figured out how to stay pretty busy indoors. So yesterday, we gutted the basement, I cooked a lunch and cleaned it up, I got some projects done (which I plan to talk about on here in a future post - it's my latest obsession), I got organic fertilizer put down on my garden..and then it was 7.45 pm and there was nothing left to do. I wasn't thinking about the next day, and I didn't cry at first. I just started leaking. From my eyes. Without my consent. What on earth was this about? Why were my cheeks so wet. Oh, yeah. That.

So I faced it. I surrendered to it. My body knows it's been 9 years, my soul knows it, even when my mind doesn't want to admit it or confront it. I walked to the calendar, looked at the date and just sobbed and wept from this pocket of emotion inside that I didn't even know was in there. But I punctured it and it came oozing out.

I miss her. Today is a happy day, the day she was born. It was an amazing, beautiful day. I remember many parts of it clearly, some are fuzzy. It was an incredible day. And I miss her. I wish I could have been stressing about staying up late to wrap presents and hang streamers, and wondering if she'd like all the things I got her. I wish I could see what she'd look like as a 9 year old. I'm at peace with my story and with where we are in life and where we're headed. But the fact that's she's gone still sucks. And there's no point in me pretending otherwise, because, well I'm just no good at faking it I guess. And that's ok. I love her, she's my baby, I'm her mother. And it hurts to not celebrate today with her. I'll still celebrate her birth and her life, and I'll grieve that she's gone.

While I contemplated all this, a Switchfoot song came on my playlist. And every word spoke exactly how I felt. So I had to make a silly slideshow. This one isn't all upbeat, it isn't preachy with a moral at the end. It's just real, and it's an expression of how I feel today.

Happy Birthday, Peach.

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I had a dream about her

*sensitive in nature*

I had a dream about Peach last night. I've often had disturbing dreams where I find her lifeless body, buried under junk usually, and I manage to get her to breathe again, then I have the issue of people not believing me that she's really alive. You can see the symbolism screaming through that one.

Last night's was different. It was beautiful, in a strange way.



I was walking through an art supply store, trying to find things I could use for props for a movie I was going to make with my brother. I only had an $800 bill with which to pay for the items. It was torn and crumpled and I was embarrassed by it. I'm not sure whether I was embarrassed to have such an obnoxiously large sum of money, or embarrassed that it was so torn and not well taken care of.

I found a section over at the back wall, it was like a bench that ran the length of the wall. And it was filled with painted and mounted posters. I was fishing through for something that would look good on an old lady's wall, for the movie. Then I noticed the left hand corner was filled with miscellaneous fabrics. I looked through these warm, soft fabrics and uncovered my own little baby Heather, sleeping among the material. Her eyes were closed, she was warm, content and breathing. She was wearing her pink, stripy babygro/onesie. I used to call her Sparkle Queen when she wore that one. I could almost see a smile on her face as she slept.



I held her close. She looked exactly as she did in real life. I soaked up every detail. I was suddenly aware that "this is probably one of those dreams again". I wished it wasn't. And I decided to ignore the fact that it was a dream, and savor it all.

I wondered why she was still a baby when it had been so many years. I concluded it was probably because her eyes have been closed this whole time, that if I could get them to open again, she'd probably start growing again. I considered how strange it would be, for her to be the baby sister.

I noticed one of the art store employees, (or was it the manager?) looked at me holding Heather, from the other side of the store, smiled wisely, and walked out of site. I felt grateful to her, that she had given my baby this warm place to sleep while she waited for me to return to her. This lady seemed like an angel, she had a gentleness about her, but I had a sense that she had some authority that I would never comprehend.

Suddenly I got a sick feeling in my stomach. I started to regret the fact that I hadn't been there for my baby this whole time. She had been here on this bench, and I had been living my life. My heart raced and my stomach turned as I contemplated the possibility that she might have cried. What if she cried, and I wasn't there for her? Did she know I wasn't there, if her eyes were closed? Could she hear what was going on? How would she forgive me. What kind of mother was I, leaving my baby to cry and not being there to comfort her? I felt horrible.

I decided to whisper to her and kiss her warm cheek. I held her tiny body up to my face, inhaled her aroma and whispered in her ear, "Mummy's here now. Don't worry, Mummy's here".

And as I did, she started to stir. I saw her mouth move in almost a yawn, and I worried it was a grimace. It was a strange expression, her lips agape, revealing her toothless gums. I had a moment of panic that she wasn't ok, but also a moment of awe, to watch this motion animating my lost love. And then her eyes opened, for an inverted blink. Then they promptly closed again. I couldn't take my eyes off her. There was only her face, filling my whole field of vision. Her eyes slowly fluttered open again, and her mouth turned upwards into that beautiful smile that I am grateful is etched in my subconscious. It was perfectly Peach. I couldn't close my eyes right now, while awake and remember her smile so clearly. It was her, right before me. Looking right into my soul, and with her grin she was bringing life to parts of me that I thought were forever dead.

This was it. The beginning of a new adventure. I didn't know how she would grow, how it would all work out, what her sisters of brother would say. I couldn't really think of much, but stare at her, feel a connection. And overall, the overwhelming sensation was hope.

And then my dream ended. I am uncertain whether it changed to a new dream or if the emotion woke me. Or perhaps it was Turtle kicking my head in the night or Zoe climbing over my feet. Or it could have been Rene's snoring or Lana sleep walking and confused. My tattered $800 bill. My wonderful family, my large sum I've been generously blessed with. I need to focus my energies on being a better steward of what I've been given. On giving more of myself to my kids. And I am reminded of the hope I have for the future, being reminded that while I am not there for my first daughter right now, she is content and being watched over by the angels, and I will gaze into her eyes again one day. And knowing that re energizes me and motivates me to live in the moment now, to soak up every encounter with my children, to give this life my all while God has me here.

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Heather's Stocking

If you have a minute, please click here to add a note to Peach's (my SIDS angel, and my first love) stocking.



You can click on a design and just add your name, or leave a message.

Here's a post that explains more.

Have a great Christmas, peeps.

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Cleansing tears

If you don't feel like crying today, don't read this post or watch the movie. There, I warned you.

Cleansings are a part of life. We all know that. Nature is full of cycles of cleansings; the ebb and flow of oceans tides, human body detoxing cycles, the changing seasons. It enhances health and growth and progress. In fact, life depends on this aspect of nature.

I'm seeing a spiritual relevance in this concept today. 9th November is always a painful day. It's the anniversary of the death of Heather, my Peach, my first born. Whether I consciously embrace it or not, my body and my spirit seem to recognize the day. When the weather starts to turn crisp and the leaves change color and fall to the ground, the memories start to return. When we clear up the smashed pumpkins and try to sneak candy into the trash can, and the sun starts to go to bed in the early afternoon, I notice a pang in my spirit. I'll find myself breaking down over some small issue, my fuse is short and temper easily roused. I'll wonder what is going on, and then I check the date. Oh. It's time for an emotional cleansing.

I miss Heather every day. Every. Single. Day. I long for her to be a part of our chaos. I always do. But most days, every day life prevails and my grieving journey goes on the back burner, and I jot something down on the mental to-do list. I have 4 kids on earth to be positive for, to look to the future with, to make plans with and to savor. No point in dwelling on what could have been. It would only anchor me when they need me to move forward.

But once a year, I give myself permission to focus on just her. To remember. To think. To pray. And to cry as much as my spirit needs me to cry. Because I have about a years worth of tears stored up. Bereaved mother tears. They are a powerful type. They are a healthy type. I need this day. I need the 9th of November every year. A day to dread. A day to face, to grieve, to cry and to release, to focus and to mourn. And to survive. I get past the day, every year. I survive it every year. I prove to myself that I still love her with an undying love, that I need her and miss her and those feelings will never fade. And I prove to myself that I'm strong. That I'm doing well, loving and raising my family even with a broken heart.

I don't want to forget where I've come from. I never ever want to forget those ten weeks that changed me forever. And I never want to forget the hope of Heaven that carried me through the hardest days.

Even if I wanted to forget, I don't think I could. Because memories just come at this time of year. They just come. Last night I lay in bed trying to sleep, and I remembered my last moments with Peach. The last time I saw her alive. The last time I nourished her from my body. She wouldn't sleep that night. I wasn't sure at the time if it was because she had a long nap in the morning (we both fell asleep on my bed and almost missed the bus later that day because of it). Or because she had had a long day out with me, at a baby group and then a weaning talk, buses and baby carriers and walking and conversation. Maybe she was overstimulated. With hindsight now I wonder if she was in pain, maybe she knew she was dying. I hate to think of that.

Her Daddy tried to comfort her and settle her to bed. But she cried. And cried. He brought her to me to nurse her. I was in bed, very tired. I snuggled her up next to me, and nursed her while I lay there. I had no idea it would be the last time. The last time I'd see life in her eyes. The last time I'd be able to lie down and hold her warm body. The last time I'd feed her. I know I rushed it. Because I was tired. I just wanted her to go to sleep. I enjoyed her snuggle, I always did. But I rushed it. I didn't savor it. Not like I should have.

I heard this song recently, and I like to go back in my mind over that last cuddle I had with her, and imagine myself singing it to her. It helps me heal. I wish I would have sang it. I wish I would have kept her beside me. I'm sure Rene has similar thoughts about his last moments with her, while he paced the floor with her in his arms, and she stopped crying. And her heavy eyelids closed, and she gave up the fight and surrendered to sleep. And moments later her spirit left. Had he known, had I known, those were our final minutes...I'm sure our spirits would have sang this song to her.

I made a video. I will watch and imagine I'm holding her, and nursing her on my bed, that last time. And I will sing to her with my heart and spirit. And I will cry. And cry. And cleanse my emotions, and release tension and express my love for her as I so deeply long to do.

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I will celebrate

Last weekend we were dong our usual, running around in the car getting errands seen to. We were also visiting yard sales and some stores, looking for something that would look nice on our daughter's grave. The atmosphere was a bit tense, because we didn't have a lot of time left if we wanted to mail it in time to arrive in Scotland for today.

You see, today, 8 years ago, I became a mother.

So last weekend we were looking at all the little angel statues and bear photo frames and cute little baby figurines. We were also hunting out some bargains and generally getting on the with mundane. I scored a bunch of perfectly conditioned gymboree sweaters for Turtle, for a quarter each!

It felt like a normal day, but tense. I noticed that my fuse was very short and I couldn't understand it. I was getting cross with the kids and Rene for silly little things, but there was no reasonable explanation. As far as I was aware, I felt fine. I wasn't hormonal, I got up on the correct side of the bed, I had had my wheetabix. We continued stopping at yard sales and looking through for treasures.

And then I heard myself just melt down. Rene and I had a disagreement about something, I can't remember what. I went silent for a while. My head was just empty. No thoughts at all. It was strange. Silent. Then I heard myself burst into tears. I sobbed and wept and I'm sure it was quite relieving, if I'd have felt it. But I was hovering over myself watching it play out.

I expected to come out with some argument to whatever it was we were fighting about. But I didn't. I heard myself say, "I don't want to buy a bear or an angel or a statue or figurine or a baby for my daughter's 8th birthday. I don't want to buy it in advance to mail it to Scotland. I don't want to make sure it's weather proof. I want to buy a craft kit or an mp3 player or some trendy pajamas and jewelry, and I want to take it home and hide it in the closet until the next morning. I want to stay up late and wrap it at watch her face light up when she opens it. I want her to hug me and say, "thanks mum". I want her to play with it and enjoy it, not for it to sit on a cold stone being rained on. This just sucks."

And I crumbled. And he stopped the car and he held me. I hadn't been aware that I was even feeling this way. I guess it was all tucked up inside. We just cried. And the kids asked questions, and talked about her. And then Rene had a good idea. Why don't we go shop for clothes for an 8 year old girl and then donate them to the homeless shelter.

So we did that. It felt so good to look for clothes for her. I chose styles she'd like, based on her being a Docherty. My kids don't like wearing denim, or anything scratchy. I bet she'd be the same. I chose colors she used to look great wearing, because of her complexion. White, deep purple and green. I chose comfortable, yet trendy. It was so satisfying. Kaya used her money to buy a pretty pink t-shirt to donate on her behalf too.


We donated them today. We also went out to a re-diaper sale/fun day with a bouncy castle and face painting and way.too.much cotton candy. There were balloons and free treats, kids music and lots of our friends. And I pretended the whole thing was her birthday party. That's ok to do, right? It might seem a little crazy, but us bereaved mothers are a little crazy, and we're perfectly allowed to be. So we spent 5 hours at her birthday party today. The kids made bead people and danced and jumped until we all about crashed. And she smiled down. I'm sure she did.

Or God at least did and he knows where she's at in the whole space time continuum, Heaven/paradise, new body, spirit, temporary place or wherever. I'm not sure exactly how it works, but thankfully he does and he's in control and I do know I'll see her again. I'm certain of it.


Meanwhile I will celebrate her birthday. And I will cry on it. And I'll do some less than sane things, like pretend a re-diaper sale is really her birthday party with tons of guests. And I'll remember that day when I pushed her into this world late at night, and I sat and stared at her and could not go to sleep. Because she was perfect and beautiful and I could hardly believe she was really mine. I guess she never really was. None of them really are. I'll remember staring at her tiny tiny face and holding her little hand in mine and memorizing every little detail. The way she'd pucker up her lips, her little lamb like cry, her perfect eyebrows, how she could look across the large hospital room from day one, and focus on objects far away. She was so smart

I'm so proud of her. Happy birthday Peach.

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There's one missing

I love this picture Rene took of the kids and I after Lana's birthday meal at Red Robins (they do boca burgers!)



The problem is, it was supposed to be a picture of me with all my kids. But it's not. And I'll never have one of those. And I still feel a little sorry for myself at times.

See, my brain and my spirit realize that Peach isn't here anymore. They realize she's in Heaven and I'll see her again one day. My body has no clue. It just knows I've given birth 5 times and it expects to be caring for 5 children.

Once you have a child and your maternal instincts switch on for that child, there's no off button. I know she doesn't need me anymore, but my body doesn't know that.

I've mentioned before that I'm neurotic about many things. One such thing is I have this fear of leaving a child behind. I'm constantly pulling the car over to do an extra headcount, or yelling out to Kaya, "can you check that Turtle is still there? And Zoe?" even when I physically buckled them all in there minutes previous. But I think it's because my internal numbers are all out of whack with reality. I'm counting 4 kids and trying to reassure myself that that means I have all the kids, but inside there's this alarm going off saying there must be one missing.

Because there is one missing. I miss her every day. I need her every day. I love her every day. I have been blessed with so much more than I ever could have imagined. And I am thankful. And I still just wish she was here to be a part of it all. Although I'm at peace with it all and everything, sometimes it just sucks. Sometimes it just hurts. Sometimes Heaven seems too long to wait.

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Way back When-sday

I stumbled across this meme, and I think it's a great idea. I *love* looking through old photos.

Check out twinfatuation blog and join in.


I looked out some old pics of Kaya, which were some of my favs. I used to do a photo shoot of the girls in Calendar Park,Falklirk (Scotland), every fall.

That park has significance for Rene and I. He sort of almost asked me out there (he had a conversation where he hinted at it, because he was too nervous, then started talking about "our relationship" and assumed us to be an item. And we have been ever since). We had our first kiss there (um...later that same day). We had many teenage-frustrated-hormone-driven fights there. We saw Hanson play there.

We took Heather there in fall 2001. And got this photo.



The following year, we were blessed to be able to bring Kaya there.



And also the year after that






But I'm not going to post those pics today (oops, I just did).

Because I loved these ones, from fall 2004. Kaya was 2, and Lana was about 3.5 months. Such pretty wee lassies. This was actually a difficult time in our marriage. We were having issues, and hadn't started counseling yet. We were very much in a rut, and spent a lot of time fighting or crying. But we'd sometimes just get out of the house, just forget about the stresses, the lack of money, the depression, the mess. We'd get out and just be a family. And have fun. And those moments sustained us.

I remember this day. It was a good day.






















Check out Daddy's beard. hehe.

I don't miss tons about Scotland, other than the people and some food stuffs. Mostly, our lives have improved so much since coming here that I hardly stop to look back and miss the place. But I must admit, I feel a longing to stroll around Calendar park again, feed the ducks, watch the squirrels. Or in summer, watch the kids on the bouncy castle. A lot of memories in that place.

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Home now

Job 1:21 (NIV)

"Naked I came from my mother's womb,
and naked I will depart.
The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away;
may the name of the LORD be praised."

I got chills when I read this passage as a teenager, and thought of how faithful it was for Job to say these things, after losing everything - including his children.

I wondered if I'd ever be so strong. I couldn't imagine losing my own kids, and certainly couldn't imagine praising God through such tragedy. I printed this scripture off and hung it on my wall, right over my bed. So I saw it every night and morning. It was powerful to me, and I prayed I'd grow strong roots to stay firm through whatever life would throw at me.


And by the time life started throwing my worst nightmares at me, I knew the verse by heart and the meaning was also rooted in my heart. After losing Heather, I didn't really need to remind myself to praise God. It was native. It was all I had left. I wanted the Earth to just melt away so I could fall into Jesus' arms. He was all I knew, He was my comfort, my peace and my hope. I didn't feel angry at Him, or like He had caused her death - but I felt him hold me and cry with me and promise me her safety with Him in eternity. And it was everything.


My prayer is that the Freeman's will feel God's comfort and peace today and will cling to him. Sweet baby Kayleigh died last night. They had longed to take her home before she passed, she lived 11 months and never made it home, to the room they had prepared for her. Though, ultimately she is home now.

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It's silly of me, I know

..silly because it's just a commercialized holiday

silly because it's not really a day any different from yesterday, or tomorrow

silly because my arms are so full of kids and my cup overflows

silly because I have so much to be thankful for...


But I really miss her extra today.




Heather's story

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We're rich

Firstly, sorry if I complain too much about not having much money. If I've come across as claiming to be poor then I have gravely misrepresented myself.

The fact is, Rene and I, our family - we are rich. Rolling in wealth, stinking rich.

MATERIALLY
Materially, we have much. Sure, we are technically classed as low income and are eligible for WIC and other assistance (though we don't claim it, for a number of reasons. One of which is we disagree with WIC's opinion of what is healthy, and also simply that we didn't move to the USA just to live off of tax payers' money).

But when you zoom out a bit and compare us to just 2 years ago, when we left behind all our worldy possessions and stepped out on a limb, moving to a new Country with 5 suitcases of photographs and papers and 1 of clothes as our only belongings, and 2 kids on tow plus one more due in 5 weeks. We had naught. But we were trusting in the bible verse my Dad read to us on our Wedding day,

Psalm 37
3 Trust in the Lord and do good.
Then you will live safely in the land and prosper.
4 Take delight in the Lord,
and he will give you your heart’s desires.

5 Commit everything you do to the Lord.
Trust him, and he will help you.
6 He will make your innocence radiate like the dawn,
and the justice of your cause will shine like the noonday sun.

My Dad and Step Mother took us in and took extremely good care of us for those first few months. We are so grateful. It was scary leaving them May 2007, to go off to Nebraska, where we knew no-one and had no job and no savings.

But God delivered. He took care of us. When we look around our house, we can count on two hands, the number of things we have actually bought, rather than were given. And we can count on one hand the number of those which were bought at full price. We haven't had to buy the TV, beds, dressers, sofa, microwave, kitchen table, chairs, dishes, silverware, cooking equipment. We've been gifted everything and are so grateful.

There are so many people around us who have so much less than us. We pray we will be good stewards with what God has given us.

And Rene is starting a new job in 3 weeks. It was a very tough decision to make, but we feel this job will provide us more financial stability and job security, especially given the state of the economy just now.


But really, materially wasn't where I was going with the whole rich thing.



FRIENDSHIPS

WOWsers have we ever been blessed in this area. I'm an introvert, and Rene is the extrovert. I wasn't overly scared about the social issues with moving country. Rene was deeply troubled however, that we wouldn't be able to integrate well in our new home. Admittedly, in those last few weeks in Scotland, when we were saying goodbye over and over to so many amazing, incredible people, I started to wonder, "what in the heck are we doing?". We left behind some life shaping, amazing relationships with the most wonderful people.

But again, God has provided for us again here. We have an awesome support system around us here. Lincoln has been so welcoming to us, and there are folks here who have just embraced us with open arms and made us feel we truly belong. In 2 short years, we've gotten to know some people who it feels like we've known forever. People rally around us when we're in crisis, and truly our cup of friendship if overflowing. Yes, I did just say something as cheesy as that.


KIDS

When I was a young girl, I used to say when I grew up I wanted to be a wife and a mother, and have 12 kids. I'm not quite there yet, but well on the way. I have always had a deep yearning to love my own offspring, and sometimes I look around me at my sweet little ones, each busting with their own personality, and I just can hardly believe I've really been given all this. It's everything I ever wanted. And I am everything they need right now. And that is a privilege that completely blows my head off. The only thing that would make this more perfect is of course, if Heather were still here. But then 10 weeks I had with her were also an incredible blessing.

I am so thankful that Rene makes enough money so we can pay our bills and can afford for me to stay home and educate the kids, nurture them and help them grow. I believe I have one of the single most important jobs in the entire world, and I pray I will do it well. I am certainly savoring it, I truly am. I'm so grateful that I get to be the one to sit beside them on the couch and teach them to read, that I am the one who gets to show them nature and explain what it is and what it does, that I get to be the one to see the look of satisfaction on their faces when they figure out how something works or how to solve a problem. And I get to be the one my little girls want to be just like when they grow up - what an amazing, beautiful responsibility. I am so glad that they are growing up with the assurance that I am there for them, any time they need me. That's worth more money than the richest person on the planet could afford.


EACH OTHER



We married young. You could say, young and stupid. We were dating at 16 and 18 years old, and married at 19 and 22. (2.5 years age difference) We've learned a heck of a lot in that time. We had some really difficult times, and have grown through them. We went through marriage counseling a few years back, which completely changed the direction we were going in for the better. I believe, in my heart of hearts, that God brought us together, that we were chosen for each other. Rene really is my soul mate. I love him endlessly.



Ultimately, I don't want to be wealthy financially. I feel it would only distract me from what's truly important in life. We make ends meet, and that's sufficient. God has given us so very much. We are rich.

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Peach's stocking

It's that time of year again. Please send your messages or sign your name to help fill Heather's stocking this year. Thanks everyone, I can't express how much it means.



Here's the link, or you can just send an e-mail if you prefer.

Blessings to you all

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The good and the bad of baby days

I love and hate the young baby stage.

I love it so much for the cuddles, the coos, the smiles, the innocence, the precious expressions, the snuggling up and nursing, getting to know this huge soul and personality all squeezed into a teensie weensie body, feeling so important and needed, gazing in awe at this tiny creation who's gazing back in awe at their mum, learning so much about God and love and what's important in life. I love discovering this little person who I've loved for 9 months before I even knew who they were.

I love diaper changes, bath times, baby skin folds, baby fragrances, being puked on, being peed on, rubbing baby's skin, being up with baby in the night, baby burps - so satisfying, carrying baby around with pride, feeling their little hands curl around my finger and hold on so tight like they're saying "don't let me go mummy", talking to them, singing to them, watching them sleep, watching them make funny faces or kick their legs and shake their arms and open their eyes all big and wide.

I love just about every single thing about these precious hours and days and weeks and months...

Except one thing. The fear.

Glenn's passed the milestone. Heather died at 10 weeks and 3 days old. Glenn is 11 weeks now. He's made it. But I know he's still very much in the peek risk time for SIDS. I pray every day, countless times, that God will let me raise him, that He won't take him home early.

I put him to bed at night and my stomache starts to churn as my fears come to the surface again. I involuntarily play scenarios in my head and try to erase them or focus on something different. But I can't hide from the fear. It's here, it's valid and it's so hard to get through. It takes over.

Don't get me wrong, I trust God and believe that whatever happens, He'll see me through. I know He will, as He did before. But I'm selfish and don't want to just get through. I want my boy, and I want to keep him for a while. The thought of anything alternative is too much to bare.

He's my everything. He's perfect, he's special, he loves me, he's so peaceful and content and smiley, the girls adore him so much. He's such a part of our family now, I can't remember what it was like before him.

I felt the same fear with Kaya, Lana and Zoe and I got through those months. With Kaya it was the worse. So strong, and we were a mess. But we got through, and now she's 6 and thriving. My friend Dawn told me back then, "yes sometimes bad things happen to good people, but don't forget, often GOOD things happen to good people". It was like I had forgotten that tragedy doesn't always just strike and that sometimes life goes on as normal and babies grow into kids who grow into adults. And watching Kaya go from milestone to milestone has been so healing for me.

In a way I just look forward to Glenn reaching some more milestones and getting to the point where I don't wake up 20+ times a night with my heart racing while I check if he's breathing. I look forward to him being a robust 2 year old, full of energy and spirit and life, so I don't have to worry about how I could possibly go on if I ever have to go through such loss again.

But by then he'd be older, and I wouldn't have these beautiful baby days to experience anymore. And I know I'll miss it. Because I love babies so much. I love babyhood. I love these early baby days and weeks and months. I just hate the fear.

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7 years

It's been 7 years since Heather died. I made a video to remind me of all I have to look forward to one day.

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Happy Birthday, my angel, Heather

Seven years ago today, I woke up in a maternity hospital in Glasgow, nervously awaiting my husband to come join me. I had been having mild contractions all night from the gel they had given me to ripen my cervix for induction.

Rene finally arrived and I was so happy to see him. Eventually I was sent through to the labor ward to be induced. I was young, naive, nervous, excited and intimidated. They broke my water and put me on pitocin.

Things got crazy very fast, I had a failed epidural attempt, the baby's heart rate started to drop and I was threatened with a c-section. But not long afterwards I got the urge to push and I was fully dilated. I pushed pretty darn hard and she flew out.

I remember them placing her on my tummy right away and I was instantly in love, before I even knew she was a girl. Her little body was so slippy and I was so scared I wouldn't be able to hold on to her. I immediately felt so protective of her, she was my little baby, I was her mother, she needed me, I felt so important and on top of the world. THIS was what I had waited for my whole life. Suddenly everything was worth while, suddenly everything made sense, suddenly I understood so much about God's love for us.

I will never ever forget that moment. What an incredible moment. Such a tiny little bundle, meant so incredibly much to me. I am so thankful for that moment. For that memory and for the 10 weeks that followed. I will hold on to them with everything I have. Please God, don't ever let those memories fade.

I find it so hard to believe she would have been 7. I can't even begin to imagine what she'd have been like. What her interests would have been, would she have been feminine and girly, like Lana, or boisterous, like Kaya? I'll never know. But I do believe I got a glimpse of her beautiful spirit while she was here, and that's what I'll get to see again one day.

That's the part that lives on and waits for me with God. The part of her I knew, not the 7 year old who feels like a stranger to me, but the little Sparkle Queen girl, with eyes that gazed adoringly back into mine. The little princess who I felt was my best friend while we hung around the house together just us two while Daddy was at work. The precious little happy girl who thought it was the funniest thing ever when she yawned and then I yawned afterwards, or when she'd sneeze while lying down and it would fall back on her face like a sprinkler.

Man I love her so much. And I sure do miss her. Happy Birthday my Peach.

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Heather's stocking

For those who don't already know, every year we put up a stocking for Heather, and fill it with messages from friends and family. The past couple of years we've had an automated thing on her website http://www.weepeach.com/ but this year we haven't been able to get that up and runing.

So if you'd like to show our angel that she's thought of and loved, please feel free to send an e-mail to me at
nieceyd@gmail.com

Anything from just your name, or just "Merry Christmas Peach" or a longer message, or prayer etc. We print them off and stick them in her stocking and it fills us with much warmth to see her remembered and thought of. And we appreciate it so much.

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Thankful For Flowers

On Nov 9th, our friends Matt and Christa kindly bought flowers for us. We weren't home for the delivery, so they brought them by today.

They're really pretty and it's so special to know that even here, far away from home, people who never even met Heather or knew of her when she was alive, are moved by her story and her photos and care enough to send us flowers.

To Matt and Christa: Thanks guys. You're very special people and it means a lot to us :)

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Thankful for Heather

Today I'm thankful for Peach. For the time I was able to have with her. Those ten short, but truly perfect weeks.

HEATHER'S WEB SITE

6 years ago today was the worst day of my life. In the wee hours of the morning my first born baby daughter slipped away in her sleep. We still don't know why she died, that's the nature of SIDS.

Today is a sad day. A painful day. A hard day. I hate the 9th November. At the same time though, I'm grateful to have these days where I can reconnect with my feelings and feel like I'm reconnecting with her. There's a healing in it.

And I love to be reminded of her. To remember those good times. Man they were good times. We were on cloud 9 when she was with us. Just as we've been with our other little girlies.




I am thankful for every tiny minute I had. I'm thankful for her smiles. I'm thankful for the time I spent just she and I, snuggling on the couch watching morning TV. I'm thankful for the cooing sounds she made. I'm thankful for the times she'd cry in the backseat of the car until I'd spin the little dangling window toy around and she'd watch it move and calm right down. I'm thankful for the way I changed through knowing her. I'm thankful for all her faces and expressions.

Here's a wee video of her. We had trouble capturing from the DVD, so this is the best quality we could get. This is her stretching after waking up. The video jerks and jumps a lot. Sorry.

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