Where Do We Go From Here?

Where do you go when your world has been turned upside down, shaken, torn apart, and is unrecognizable? Well, you slowly look around for anything familiar. You pick up the pieces and start applying some heavy duty glue to hold it together. You hit your knees and cry up in prayer for any clue as to how to proceed. This is precisely what we did and what we continue to do. Ryan and I were fortunate in the fact that we had three children at home and could not fall apart even when we wanted to. The day after McKenna was born, Thursday April 26, was our son's 5th birthday. I begged to go home. We made it in time to pick up a pizza and have Lane unwrap his gifts before putting them to bed. My children always have these big parties with these cakes that I spend hours making. They love their cakes and as soon as one birthday is over they start planing for their next cake. It's something we share and hopefully one of those memories they hold on to long into adulthood. Therefore, it is very important to me. I was horrified I couldn't do this for him, but I could barely walk. We had her funeral the following day and I was readmitted to the hospital that evening with an extremely high blood pressure. That meant I would miss Kayla's dance competition on Saturday morning. All I wanted was to attempt to get back to normal and it wasn't happening! I knew Ryan just wanted to sleep in our bed, not on the uncomfortable window seat couch! We went home late on Saturday night. That meant we would be able to still get day two of Kayla's competition and have a tiny party (with a store ordered cake) for Lane. Each of things were a step towards normal. Each was a piece we could pick up and put back together. So where do we get this magic glue to hold it together? Well, that glue is love. The only things we seemed to know anymore was that we loved each other, we loved McKenna, and we loved our children. But...is love enough to hold together such a broken, shattered world?

More Open Arms

The first person I want to mention here is Samantha. I've mentioned Samantha before. She was pregnant with a boy, Bentley. Bentley was due two days after McKenna. He was born a week before. Samantha and I went through this journey together. Without her for support along the way, I don't know how I could do this. She understands the pain, the heartbreak, and the fear of trying again. Secondly, is Michelle. I have to flash back 11 years. 11 years ago, one of my very best high schools friends, Michelle was carrying twins. They were born very early and one didn't make it. I was 16, and I didn't know how to be a friend through all that. We lost touch. When McKenna got so sick I kept thinking of Michelle and her babies and knowing I needed to apologize. I found her via Facebook and told her I was sorry and that I was so happy to find her. I didn't mention McKenna at first. This was about her, not me, not my baby. She found out and became one of my greatest allies in the days that followed and continues to be as she is further in her grief journey, but remembers the steps it took to get there. Thankfully, I have found and reconnected with one of my very best friends. Then there is Andrea. Once upon a time, Andrea's husband was a dear friend of mine. a few years ago I met Andrea at another friend's dad's house. Aside from that, there wasn't a friendship in place. that is until her sweet boy went to Heaven a couple months after McKenna. These tragic moments unite us. We were virtually strangers, to become sisters in loss. Then there were the people who helped me out in other ways. Tiffany brought us dinners and Tracy dressed my daughter for competition when I couldn't be there (and continue to help me and talk when I need to talk). Dani and I became very close. She listens when I talk, she tells me it's going to be ok, and she brought me a happy seed to cheer me up as well as a beautiful frame to McKenna's photograph. Then, there are my support group ladies. I have met some wonderful women through these groups, Samantha being one of them. These women have come from all over, all different stories, all connected by that common thread. Next Saturday, I get to meet another one, Heather, in person. I am so excited! I love these women!

Open Arms

McKenna's funeral was the end of one chapter, but still very much the beginning of our story. Ryan, the kids, our families, and I were beginning on a new journey. A journey of grief. A journey in which all of our familiar landmarks were gone, some of our most trusted friends gone, and a cloud around us that made seeing and breathing very difficult. I look back on those days and I wonder how we've come this far. I look back on those days and I see a picture of a broken little family, kids looking to us for guidance, and we could barely keep our feet on a straight path. If I was artistically inclined, I would paint a picture of the grief of losing a child. This picture would be my husband and I walking down a long road, holding the hands of our three living children. It would be raining, but we wouldn't have umbrellas. We would be soaked, dripping, bent over under the weight of the storm, and stumbling down this unknown road. That's how I imagine grief looks on the outside. In spite of the storm I had some open arms that reached out as I stumbled, embraced me in a hug before I crumbled, and guided me so that I didn't fall into those trenches along the road. The first set of arms, are those of my husband. Ryan is not a patient person by nature. He's difficult to live with, short tempered, and often times focused on only one thing. Living with Ryan takes a lot of patience. He will admit this! However, in the days that followed the ultrasound, the days I began to decline in health, the days in the hospital (which went beyond the delivery. We had multiple stays afterwards), and the weeks and months following her death, Ryan took the time to be patient, to shield me from things that would sting, and to just open his arms and let me fall into them. This is not say that things have been perfect, they have not! We have had a very difficult time being in a new marriage and dealing with a devastating loss so early in the marriage. However, without Ryan I wouldn't be in this place today. Secondly, the arms of our parents. Each of McKenna's grandparents were there in the room as she came into the world. They shared that moment, they held her, they told her she is loved! They've allowed us to cry, cried with us, arranged the funeral while I was still hospitalized, listen when Ryan and I don't understand the way one another grieve, and show their love for McKenna daily. They don't forget her or act like she was never here. Without these arms, we would have never been able to get from our knees to the path. Then, there are the arms of my sister-in-law. She stayed in that hospital all night. She stayed by my side for many hours. She understood when I couldn't speak to her, but patted her face instead. She talks about McKenna. She calls McKenna her niece. She stands on the edge of that road to keep us on that path and upright. During McKenna's funeral, Ryan carried her casket down to the site. As I sat in my chair, the finality hit me again. This was it. This was my daughter in a box. This was the end of it. I nearly fell out of my chair. In that moment my brother in law reached out and wrapped his arm around me from behind. Without that single gesture I would have fallen. I would broken down in front of my children in a way that would have frightened them. Just a single movement, but an open arm to show love. For these open arms I am so very grateful! ....I will continue this very soon with more of these open arms. There have been quite a few I want to name!

It's time to finish that chapter

A dear friend texted me today and told me that he has been reading my blog. He has no reason to read, other than he cares. He has a happy, healthy little boy...no problems, no heartbreak connected to his entrance into the world. He said it was touching and that simple response to my story touched me deeply. I believe it is time to finish the story of my princess making her way into our world, only to leave much too soon.

I was admitted to the hospital on Tuesday morning due to an extremely high blood pressure. I was put on medicine and just laid around, for hours! Ryan, bless his heart, was by my side the whole time. He didn't even leave to smoke until someone else was with me. That meant from around 11am until 8:00pm! I was moved from triage to another semi-private room where I was told I would be until I delivered. I thought we were talking weeks! In the next hour we were visited by many doctors and nurses. My pulse was very low, they were concerned. My blood pressure was still high, they were concerned. It finally came down to worst decision we've ever had to face. I begged for an ultrasound just to make sure that nothing had changed, to make sure it was as bad as try say, to make sure that I would someday believe the fate they had stated was hers. The doctor who did my ultrasound said we needed to deliver. There was no choice left. I would not make it if we didn't get McKenna out. All this time, my tiny girl is kicking and moving and letting me know she is still there, still fighting, still giving me hope. We had a choice, we could do a c-section, but given her size it would destroy all abdominal muscles and I would never be able to have another child, or we could induce with seaweed and hope she made it through delivery. The NICU doctor came in to help us with this decision. She told us that by the ultrasound they didn't think they could save McKenna but they would try. We made the decision to induce labor, questioning all along if it was right, would she have a better chance with a c-section?
Clinging to hope, racked with guilt and fear! At this point, my mother in law and sister in law made it and gave Ryan a break. They went with me as we moved to a labor and delivery room. That is when the finality of it hit me. This was it. These where the last
hours I would carry my tiny girl and be able to keep her safe. Through the night more people arrived. My parents, my brothers, Ryan's best friend, some stayed, some left. My brother brought the elephant Ryan had bought McKenna and a tiny dress that I had picked out in the event that we needed it for the worst case scenario. Through those hours we had some laughs, and surprisingly few tears. In all, 7 people were in the delivery room with me plus doctors and nurses. Everyone had stepped out and Ryan and I had a few minutes to ourselves. I wasn't worth much company wise because the medications I was on were very painful and made me very strange. My husband was scared, that much was clear to me. The fear was there for his baby, but in front of that was a deeper fear for his wife. In losing his wife he would lose the other kids as well. His entire life hung in a balance he had no control over. In those moments I could see this, but not respond to him. I couldn't comfort him, I couldn't answer him, I couldn't give him the reassurance McKenna offered me with each kick, I couldn't interact with him at all. The medicine made me zombie like. Then, my water broke. I was alert for a moment. He ran for my dad who ran for a nurse and everyone filed back in. After a bit a doctor got there and checked me. McKenna was half way out, feet first. The doctor saw some movement and after working her out, they rushed her to the baby bed. The doctors tried, tried to save her, and couldn't. They wrapped her in a blanket and handed her to me. How beautiful she was, how dainty, how perfect, how wonderful! We cried, we talked about how perfect she was, we dressed her, we took pictures, we passed her around, just as we would if she was breathing. She was our baby, our anticipated, loved, and cherished baby. We had her in our arms for three hours. There are few moments in your life you remember with precise clarity. One of this moments for me was handing my daughter to a nurse and knowing it was the last time I would see her in my lifetime! As she walked away with her, Ryan and I watched her go and it will always be the worst moment of my life.

I Look For You

My Sweet McKenna,
   We visited you yesterday, as we do so many Sundays.  Today we went to remove the special things from around your stone that your brothers and sister have picked out.  We will put them back in the spring.  That tiny butterfly landed there on your flowers again, and Daddy said, "There's McKenna." We look for you there.  On Friday, Daddy and I went to a concert.  We were way up high in the stands, nearer to you than we have been before.  Remember that song you loved and every time it came on the radio you kicked away?  It was so odd to me, but it woke you up, every time!  They played that song.  I looked up, wondering if you could hear the concert up there in Heaven (even though at that time of night you should have been asleep in your tiny crib).  I looked up to the cloud covered sky and even with the moon blocked out by clouds, there was one single star shinning bright.  I looked for you.  Three days will mark the time when you have been in Heaven longer than you were in my tummy growing.  I know these milestones as I move through my days. Sometimes I silently accept them, sometimes I talk to Daddy about them, and sometimes the tears come and seem never ending.  Every day, I watch the sunrise as I drive East.  I look at the clouds noting the different shapes and I look for you.  Each and every day you are not here with me, I look for you.  Someday I know you will help God pick the day to send us a rainbow.  I know you look over your little brother or sister and smile at our joy, but know, my tiny girl, you will never ever be forgotten!  I love you endlessly!

Love,
Mommy