Blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside!

I need to start this post with a big thank you to my friends who have commented on this little "series."  My heart has been so touched by your kind words! 

  

There are those who would think that having another child after losing a baby would make everything okay.  Maybe for some that's true.  Eli brought so much joy and healing into our lives, but I still had a long way to go. 

  

Having Eli showed me exactly what I had lost when Abigail died. 

  

That was a hard pill to swallow.  We had been experiencing all of these emotions in the year since Abigail died, but now it went so much further than just, oh, I'm sad, or we miss her so much.  All of a sudden there was this living, breathing (praise God!) reminder of what we could have had with her.  It was very bittersweet.  For every milestone that Eli hit (and that my children continue to hit), there was that flip side that said, "You're never going to see Abby do this."  It was (and sometimes still is) very hard. 

  

Abigail's first birthday came when Eli was 18 days old.  It is a surreal experience to ask your mom to babysit your newborn, so that you can visit your firstborn's grave.  My friend Jessica, who shares Abigail's birthday, moved me to tears when she said, "Can you imagine how it sounds when the angels sing 'Happy Birthday'?" 

  

I found that I had an overwhelming need to talk about Abigail.  I can't remember where I saw the information, but I contacted the Miscarriage, Stillbirth, Infant Death Group (MIS Group) at Women & Infant's Hospital.  Thank goodness for gracious people--when I called to find out their meeting time, I actually asked if I could bring Eli!   The man was like, "Um, NO." LOL  I was so wrapped up in this strange dichotomy of being thrilled with Eli and grieving for Abby, that it didn't occur to me how painful it would be for the other members of this group to see Eli.  Duh--I know better now.  

  

Going to the support group was so eye-opening.  A roomful of people who had experienced what I went through...some who had gone on to have other children, some whose grief was so new & raw, I almost felt guilty for having a healthy baby at home.  I cried so much that night; I remember shaking as I told them my story. 

  

The group was a place where other parents really understood what I was going through, and, as the months went by, I could relate to new members as they came.  Every week was filled with tears, support, and new friendships being forged by this common bond.  We all belonged to this club, a club that you never, ever wanted membership in, but there we were. 

  

One of the greatest blessings of my life came from this group.  One cold, January night, I met a woman named Kathy.  She lived in the town over from where I had grown up, and her son had been stillborn just two months earlier.  We stood out in the cold chatting for quite a while, and exchanged phone numbers.  A few weeks later, she came to visit me at my home. 

  

How Kathy had the grace and fortitude to even be near me blows my mind.  You see, Kathy's son Benjamin was born just 1 month after Eli.  You would think that seeing Eli would have served as a reminder of her loss.  Through the immeasurable grace of God, this didn't happen.  What did happen, though, is that I gained my very best friend in the world.  She is an absolute treasure.  

  

As I now (kind of) moved forward in my life, certain issues arose.  A big one for me was how was I going to keep Abigail's memory alive?  At Christmas we had gotten a Christmas ornament for her, and one for Eli.  We visited the cemetery on her birthday and Mother's Day.  I told Eli about her before he was 10 minutes old.  I kept her picture on my bureau.  And I went to the support group where, for 2 hours twice a month, I could talk about my daughter to my heart's content. 

  

Thank God for friends who also, even if they couldn't understand it, tolerated this need.  It was ten times greater after I had Eli.  There was the fact, also, that we wanted Eli to have a very good understanding of who Abigail was.  Obviously as an infant he didn't understand, but I wanted him to be familiar with her name. 

  

We survived the winter with a baby! Eli was growing and thriving.   What could possibly add to our joy but...another baby!  In June, I became pregnant again (on purpose, no less--what was I thinking? LOL).  Actually, what I was thinking was this: I want a daughter. 

  

This is another one of those areas where my emotions were all over the place.  On the one hand, we were so thankful for Eli!!!  And if God had given us only sons, we would have been fine with that (I'd have more grey hair, but I'd be fine!!!).  But I really, really, really, really wanted another girl.  I kept attending the MIS group meetings until I was showing enough that it might be uncomfortable to those who had experienced a recent loss. 

  

Steve and I went through all of the same emotions that we experienced when I was pregnant with Eli.  Would everything be okay?  Boy, was it!  Or should I say, "Girl, was it!". LOL  In October of 1997, we found out that Eli would be getting a baby sister!  That same month, Eli celebrated his first birthday, and we marked Abigail's second birthday.  

  

We wanted to start some family traditions--things that would make Abigail seem more real to our children.  We brought a balloon to the cemetery on her birthday, to let it go up to Heaven.  We placed flowers at her grave.  We baked a birthday cake.  And we talked about her.  Of course, at first they weren't deep conversations--Eli was one!  But it laid the groundwork for some very interesting conversations, and has resulted in children who are comfortable talking about their sister, and who always include her in our "head count." 

  

In early March 1998, Madeline Frances Abigail made her entrance to the world.  I remember begging the doctor, "Give me my daughter, give me my daughter!"  I was so impatient to hold her, and I fell in love immediately.  If Eli was the child who filled my empty arms, Maddie was the baby who filled the daughter-sized hole in my heart!  She was, and is, an absolute joy. 

  

So now I was getting this motherhood thing down!  Spring and summer rolled into fall, and Eli turned 2, followed by Abigail's third birthday 18 days later.  We continued our traditions of visiting the cemetery, letting balloons go, having a cake (we've never sang happy birthday to her, in case you're wondering....that would be a little weird for me), and buying each child a special ornament at Christmas. 

  

Autumn has always been a difficult season for me.  I'll find myself feeling sad for no reason, until I remember that Abigail's birthday is coming.  Mother's Day is always very difficult.  Another time that is hard--family portrait time.  There will always be a child missing. 

  

By spring of 1999, I was loving life.  Eli was two and a half (and potty training---okay, I didn't love that!), Maddie was 14 months old, and I could finally leave the house without bringing everything but the kitchen sink with me!  Steve and I wanted another child, but decided that we'd wait until the end of the year to start trying--I wanted just a bit more space between Maddie and the next baby than I had had between Eli & Maddie (16.5 months--I don't recommend this to anyone!). 

  

God had other plans.  At the end of May, I helped a friend with her yard sale.  All day I kept saying, "Wow, I'm so tired!", "Whew--I feel dizzy!", and so forth.  I couldn't keep my eyes open, so I packed up the kids and left.  On the drive home it hit me....tired, dizzy, 8 hours "late" (I was really regular then! LOL)....OH MY LORD, I WAS PREGNANT!  A test that afternoon confirmed it.  I was not a happy camper. 

  

You know those movie scenes where the wife presents the husband with some cute gift, and he's confused until he realizes what she's trying to tell him, and they're so happy?  That did not happen here.  I called Steve at work and said, "You got me pregnant again!" and burst into tears.  Very romantic.  It took me about a week to get used to the idea, and some of my friends still laugh at the recollection of me calling them, completely horrified at the thought of another child so soon. 

  

I mention this because I could waste time feeling guilty that, at first, I was not thrilled with the idea of our 4th child in 5 years.  Some, knowing of our loss, might think that I was ungrateful.  But I choose to look at my despair as a very normal emotion (I got over it very quickly!), and after having a child die--anything normal is a good thing!  I see the fact that I'm not a neurotic mess (be nice, now!) as a blessing from God.  Guess what?  Sometimes I don't like my kids very much!  I get angry with them.  I'm not a perfect mom.  What I am, though (I think), is a very normal mom. I also make kick-butt chocolate chip cookies.  

  

In January 2000, Patience Elizabeth joined our family (yes, yes, a month after I had wanted to start "trying" for another baby...).  She's an absolute crack-up, gorgeous, and smart as a whip.  I can't imagine life without her.  She doesn't, though, look anything like her brother and sister--I mean, you can tell they're related (my secret?  they all have the same dad!), but Eli & Maddie look so much alike, and Patience doesn't quite fit that mold.  And so I find myself wondering, who would Abigail look like? 

  

When I said that my life has been split into two parts, before Abigail and after Abigail, I wasn't kidding.  Losing her, despite how well we've healed and how much God has blessed us, colors everything.  In eleven days, it will be Abigail's 11th birthday.  Eleven years!  How has that much time possibly gone by?  I'll tell you one thing, my 21-year-old-self couldn't see this far.  I couldn't imagine a life this full, this blessed! 

  

I remember praying, I think before we were even pregnant with Eli, "Please, God, let something good come out of this situation."  This prayer was, of course, coupled with the begging, "Please give us another baby, please give us another baby...", that I would pray over and over through my tears, unable to articulate anything other than that aching need for another child.  I truly believe that prayer was answered.  Because we have been blessed.  We did go on to have healthy children.  Because we are--mostly--a normal family.  And I hope that when a grieving mom or dad sees us (and I've talked to so many), they see hope.  Hope for the future, hope that you can be happy again,  hope that a "normal" will come to your family, hope that life hasn't ended.  

  

It doesn't happen overnight.  I would say for a solid 8 years, the defining aspect of my life was that I was the mother of a dead child.  I think (my memory is fuzzy and it's late here in RI) Abigail's 8th birthday was the first that we didn't go to the cemetery.  Maybe the weather was bad?  Certainly there wasn't room for 2 adults, three children and 8 balloons in the car.  Y'know what, though?  It was okay.  In previous years, I killed myself trying to fulfill these traditions that we had started.  Instead of the traditions working to enrich our family, I had become a slave to them, frantic to have the perfect day.  Homemade muffins for breakfast, an appropriately somber visit to the grave site, delicious family meal followed by a birthday cake....with 3 toddlers.  Sound fun?  It wasn't.  

  

I'm not saying those traditions haven't served their purpose.  We still visit Abby's grave, but if it's pouring sheets of rain on her birthday, we'll go the next day (a few years ago, if you had suggested waiting a day, you might as well have asked me to kill her all over again).  If her birthday is just hitting me really hard (which for some reason is happening this year, I don't know why...), we can sack out at home and watch a movie.  If we get to the cemetery, great.  If not, that's okay, too.  Sometimes we have cake (I could even buy one--GASP! LOL), sometimes we don't.  But Eli, Maddie & Patience know they have a sister in Heaven.  They talk about her all the time.  And that was what I wanted.  For them to know that she's part of our family, part of their story.  She won't be forgotten. 

  

Thank you so much for reading Abigail's story.  I feel now like I can mention her here without having people scratch their heads, wondering who she is.  It has been my pleasure to share my daughter's life with you.