It comes at unexpected times, tearing into my heart, grief. It clenches my body in it's firm grasp and I find I have no urge to resist. I allow it to sink in.
My baby is dead. She is beyond this world now. I cannot hold her and braid her hair. I cannot float her in the bathtub or smother her in kisses. The softest skin in the world is gone, gone forever from my touch. I hold tight to my big soft rainbow froggy (stuffy) and I wrap myself in her blanket and I cry. Sometimes I cry so hard that I can't get breaths between my sobs. The people upstairs always know when I'm crying. I can't hold the sobs back. My grief is loud. My longing to hold my sweet darling is strong.
My heart hurts with her passing. I miss her. I miss the little things that we did together. I miss being her everything.
Every minute is missing something. Every minute is missing her. Caring for her, thinking of her, providing for her took every minute of my day before and now there is only space.
I try to look at the space as a positive thing. I have room now. Brent and I can be alone sometimes. Solara and I can have time, I don't have to deal with that horrible loud suction machine.
But trying to find the positive doesn't always work. Yesterday I saw the suction machine in the storage unit and my breath caught in my throat and the tears trickled down out of my eyes over my cheeks. The grief came on again.
It comes again and again and I know it will. I know that it is healthy and I know that it is normal. What gets me is that I honestly believe that she is in a better place. That she is with God and One with All. She is free and beautiful. She can dance, speak, smile, play and giggle.
I know because her spirit visits me in my dreams.
But those special dreams don't happen everynight. For the past 3 or four nights I've been reliving her death over and over, in different ways, in different places. It always starts out the same. She is alive, I'm holding her and kissing her cheeks, and then she dies. Only the setting changes. It's never grotesque or horrifying but it's always the same ending. When I awake I feel as though I haven't slept and that I have just lost my baby girl.
It makes it hard to focus on the tasks we find in front of us right now.
It feels as though the world should just stop. But it doesn't so we keep moving with it.
Tasks to tackle:
We are moving to the lower mainland. The Vancouver area. We have found a home in Burnaby that is sanctuary-like and peaceful in the midst of the chaos that is the big city. We need to live down here to facilitate our future plans of educating others and advocating for newborn screening. Today I meet with our lawyer and accountant regarding the formation of the non-profit society we are starting to help save babies. I've also got a job offer in the new year that I've accepted that involves helping people during their medical crisis'. These things are better accomplished here in the big city. But my heart is in the Koots. We will return there when the time is right. We miss it there. It is home... we miss our friends too, but we know that they understand.
The plan currently is that Brent is leaving to go to Castlegar tonight on the greyhound bus. He will arrive there at 5am and needs to find a place to hang out until the u-haul rental place opens. Then he will rent a truck and go to the storage unit. He has to find a couple guys to help load our stuff into the truck. It will probably take a few hours. Then he has to grab a couple things from Nelson that our friends have in various places. Then he will drive the U-haul slowly over the mountains to Vancouver. Hoping that it's got good winter tires and that the weather will be clear.
The bus schedule is silly. (UPDATE: Mike is picking up Brent in Castlegar from the bus.)
Can anyone help Brent load the truck? The storage unit is located between nelson and castlegar at Horizon RV and self-storage. We can pay helpers. Call Brent at 778-987-4117 for info.
Friends, will you please bring our houseplants that we left with you to Brent sometime on Saturday afternoon/evening in Nelson? A home isn't a home without houseplants :)
I am so sorry for your pain. I don't think the grief ever goes away-it just becomes less painful one day. No mother should have to go through losing a child.
ReplyDeleteI cannot imagine how you must feel x happy and positive one moment then sad and lonely and lost the next x I think about your daughter every day and know that she has touched thousands of hearts and changed lives xx I have met some strong women in my life and even though I have never met you or your precious Anaya, I feel a connection and I think you are the strongest person I know x massive hugs and chin up x it will get easier
ReplyDeleteWell done. Perfect plans mama
ReplyDeleteDear Camera imagine the pain you are feeling, I lost my mother loved qureida u just four months and not for hunter, does not cease, only increases, and increases ... But the only certainty is that we all find ourselves in a heavenly realm where masi no pain, no tears, only joy, and we look forward to this day, I am Brazilian city of Joao Pessoa in Paraiba state is always accompanied by the blog and facebook, I was very saddened by the departure of Anaya. I imagine the pain of your suffering but I have faith that God will help you and give you comfort. You deserve the mother who went to Anaya. She left knowing how much you loved her and did everything to keep her at his side. Bj! God is great!
ReplyDeleteCamara,
ReplyDeleteMy heart breaks for your loss. I have followed Anaya's story since she came to Calgary. I shared my milk, and she shared her journey. You have both never been far from my mind and I mourn Anaya's loss with you. Thank you for letting us into your life. Teaching me about gratitude, living in the moment, milk sharing, and this disease. Blessings.
Tanya
I was told once by a median that any time u get the moments when u tear up or start crying one of the loved ones u have lost is giving you a hug. I found this soothing knowing they are with us exactly when we need them. I hope u find it soothing also.
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