All because of Annalise

Lately I've felt like I've fallen into a pretty consistent pace of life.  In my mind, I think I'm coping and grieving "well".  For the most part - things feel like they've settled into a new normal.  There are those unexpected days and moments when grief and sadness sneak up on me and I have to fight back to "happiness".  James and I have been spending some much needed quality time together.  We have grown so much closer and so much more mature since we lost Annalise.  I feel even more in love with him than before - I feel more "tied to" him than ever before... if that makes sense.  I guess walking through tragedies will cement relationships together like that.  We've also been seeing a Christian counselor who has helped tremendously.  Thank God we took that step to talk through our feelings and have a guide walk us through our grief.  It is certainly healing.  We are finding out more than I think we ever wished to know about our personalities and who we are as individuals and as a couple.  Sometimes I am blown away when I think about how our little angel has given us this gift - she has opened our eyes to things we would have been otherwise missing.  She has taught us lessons that some people never get to learn.  Once we can conquer our sadness and come through this tough time, I know we are going to be better, stronger people -- all because of Annalise.  We will be better parents, better spouses, better pastors, better friends.  I guess with every tragedy, God gives us the opportunity to grow and become better versions of ourselves - more like Him, hopefully.

I miss you my love

Annalise,
Your Daddy and I have been trying our best to be strong and find the best way to cope with our grief.  Some days are much harder than others.  We miss you so much.  I know you are looking down on us and can see the tears and the sadness we are experiencing.  The both of us only want to hold you again.  I wish I knew how to make this pain go away because I hate spending my days so deeply sad and hurting.  I hate that my heart feels like it's imploding every time I see a baby or a pregnant woman.  There is a deep, empty hole in my soul which was supposed to be filled with loving you and enjoying you.  I hope you are happy my love.  I hope that you have 100's of friends and never spend a day alone.  I hope that Jesus is there to hold you and love you when you are missing your mommy and daddy.  Since I'm not there to take care of you, I can only hope all of your needs are being well met and that you daily know love like our love for you.  I am so so sorry that I cannot be there to take care of you and love on you.  I feel like nothing else in this world matters anymore because you are gone.  I feel like my purpose and my reason for living left this world when you did.  I would give anything to see you smile... to hear you laugh... to hear you say "mommy."  I can't help but feel sorry for myself that I cannot have that with you.

Please guide us my love.  Your daddy and I need you to watch us through every day.  We are having a tough time without you.  Please send some sunshine and good days our way. I love you with everything that I am.

A different reality

During these last couple of weeks of being back at work, I have had an overwhelming feeling that I am lost.  A feeling that I went "off-track" somewhere.  I was preparing and anticipating for the reality of motherhood and working part-time (or not at all).  Instead, I'm left with a new reality, a very different reality.  I'm back at work, and some moments feel like nothing ever changed - no pregnancy ever happened because I'm right back where I was - doing the same thing I was doing before.  But the fact of the matter is: everything has changed.  Everything inside of my heart and inside of my head is different.  Some days I wake up with agonizing emotional pain, wondering why any of this had to happen to us.  I wake up and I don't want to face the day.  I don't want to face this reality.  Some nights, I lay in bed with tears streaming down the sides of my face, wishing I could still be pregnant with my baby girl.  I have cried myself to sleep too many nights to count.  Sometimes the struggle seems pointless.  Then sometimes, when you add in the stresses of the world that is speeding along as we're trying to hold onto our sanity and put ourselves back together, it can all be too overwhelming.

There's a poem titled "Welcome to Holland" that a friend shared with me.  This poem so accurately sums up how I feel right now.  Sometimes I sit and cry saying, "I don't want to be in Holland.  I want to be in Italy".  It is unfair.  To any family that has had to go through the loss of a child - it is very unfair.  I don't have an answer as to why these things happen.  I spend probably the majority of my time crying out to God asking him to show me why.  Today I was just telling God that I don't know why my human mind is so desperately trying to connect the dots and gather an understanding of what has happened to us - but I NEED that.  I NEED to understand!  What I do know is that this situation has drawn me so much closer to God and has completely changed my thought patterns toward this earth and the time we spend here.  It has also changed my thoughts about heaven and hell and the reality of those places.  More than ever, I understand how temporary this life and this body is.  I understand that we do not live forever and something is going to happen when we die - we are going to go somewhere.  I know more than ever that I want to be in heaven because a piece of my heart is already there.



"Welcome To Holland"
by:  Emily Perl Kingsley

When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy.  You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum.  The Michelangelo David.  The gondolas in Venice.  You may learn some handy phrases in Italian.  It's all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives.  You pack your bags and off you go.  Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."

"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy!  I'm supposed to be in Italy.  All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."

But there's been a change in the flight plan.  They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.

The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease.  It's just a different place.

So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language.  And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

It’s just a different place.  It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy.  But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and Holland has tulips.  Holland even has Rembrandts.

But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there.  And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."

And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever  go away... because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.

But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ... about Holland.

Sadness

Sometimes it amazes me how strong and happy I can be. Then there are times when the sadness creeps in and is completely overwhelming. This is one of those times.
It's indescribably painful to see so many kids and babies all around me every day and to see FaceBook posts about babies and pregnancies when I have a huge, gaping hole in my soul that should be filled with my little daughter. Instead, I have a box. I have a box of mementos and photos and a blanket. I have a blanket with her name on it... but no baby to wrap up in the blanket. God - take this pain away from me. I'm torn with never wanting to forget and never wanting to remember. The remembering brings the tears. The remembering reminds me of what I almost had. The remembering makes me feel like I wasn't worthy enough to be a mother.

She Opened My Eyes

Over these past 4 weeks I keep seeing little ways I've changed since we lost Annalise. She has opened my eyes to so many things. Before now, I felt like I was walking through life half asleep. Now - I'm truly fully awake.

I've noticed how much I would let all the small stresses of life bother me in the past. I would let them all build up and then I would just explode. Now, I feel calmer and those small stresses seem completely insignificant to me. For example: this morning I took a big test. Regularly, I would be freaking out about it, but I was completely calm and peaceful. I practically got a perfect score on the test, and even if I had failed it - it would have been okay, because I could have taken it again. There are scarier things in life.

Also, things such as possessions and social stature that I used to hang onto so tightly and thought were so cool before - I now sit amazed at how petty it all is. I look around at people chasing after these silly things - fame, extravagant wealth, party life - and I just feel my head spin at the realization that once upon a time that was me and now... now I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, those are the emptiest, least important things - ever. We all hold on to so many unimportant things that our arms and our hearts are too full for the things that truly matter.

Now, more than ever, I'm so aware of all the people around me. I see people in the store and on the street and I wonder to myself, "What's their hurt?" Everyone seems to have hurt. It's the world we live in - a broken world. I have had numerous conversations with people who are going through unreal pain - cancer, divorce, financial issues, deaths -- so many deaths. We all die you know. This is where my baby girl has opened my eyes to know the deep, important truth that is: life is so short and so temporal. We are basically here on a vacation. I'm here on vacation with my friends and family and my baby girl went back home a little early.

My communication and my relationship on a whole with my husband has improved drastically. I guess nothing truly cements a relationship like traveling through the darkest moments of your life together. I've always said to myself that's why my family - my mom, my brother and me - are so close. We went through such hardships and came out on the other side together and stronger!

Most importantly, since my baby girl is there, I have wanted to know so much more about heaven. About what happens to us after we die. I have needed to grow closer to God through this situation because He was the only thing sustaining me. I have learned that I can truly do anything with Him. I didn't think I could ever have the courage to give birth to and hold my dead baby - but I did. I didn't think I could ever put that baby in a casket and bury her in the ground - but I did. I didn't think I'd ever have the conviction to live after that - but I am. I didn't think I could go back to work and resume life - but I did. And this hasn't been the first time I've made it through unbelievably tough issues with His help.

James and I have had the honor of creating a precious life who will forever be alive in eternity.  I carried her for 6 months and never got to meet her face to face, but I have become a better person all because of her. I have told Annalise "Thank you for opening my eyes" several times over these past weeks and I will say it many more throughout my life. Her life was so extremely significant... it completely altered James' and my little world. I will never be the same and I am so grateful for that.