I spy with my little eye.

   I hate cleaning my room alone. I always seem to find things I don't want to find. Some days I smile thinking Adalynne set them there so I'd think of her, others I cry at how bizarre my life was/is. I've kept a running list of photos of these stinging finds. Today's find broke me. Today I was cleaning clothes up and looked down to find "The Bag." Now, this isn't any bag, it's a biohazardous materials bag that I kept and carried any time I traveled. This bag was The Kit I needed for...after Adalynne died. It held saline and eye patches that I was to use once she passed away to preserve her eyes for donation. It's labeled  Hospice Kit/Post-Mortem Eye Care. If I didn't have this when she died I risked losing her ability to donate.
   The thoughts rushed in my brain the moment my fingers touched its plastic. I wonder if they actually used her eyes for science or threw them away like her precious heart valves. (Still so hurt, angry, bitter and broken with Carolina Donor Services)  How many parents had to carry around a Post Mortem care bag with their baby? Who put this in their diaper bag when they took off to take their daughter to see their dad, who lived over an hour away. Or, trips to different states to visit family for a Hello and Goodbye visit. What kind of crazy world I lived in, huh?
  Over these months I've found baby shower cards mixed with "Sorry for your loss" cards from her funeral. I found an envelope with her death certificate I never saw before. Or, maybe I did and my brain was like "NOPE." I also found the lovely "Certificate of Cremation" a sucker punch to my throat. It was together with her certificate you get when your baby is born in the hospital, with their little feet on it. That one left me gasping on the floor alone. One of the funny finds was a letter from the funeral home and inside was a plane ticket. I laughed when I saw those two together. My healing was jumping on a plane to visit family. Something I desperately need again. There is nothing like making more memories with your favorite people to heal your soul a little.
  I have a stack in the living room of papers and basic bullshit from Carolina Donor Services. I'm so pissed at them I just want to burn it all but, I can hear Adalynne sigh at me. "Mom, it is what it is, we tried," I think that's what she'd say if she could've spoken to me. I hope they still used her donations for science. Saving three babies would've been better but, we tried.
   I also find morphine caps at the weirdest times and those, I giggle at. I smile at the fact she no longer needs it. No more fighting through a seizure to get her to swallow morphine. Or blue sticky medicine running down her sweet cheek. I still have a basket of her morphine and seizure meds in a basket hidden under my bed that I can't deal with yet. One day.
  All these finds are bittersweet some more bitter than others. I cry and little and then take some deep breaths and try to finish cleaning.
   What a crazy life I have. I hope all of you are having a better day then finding a Post Mortem baby bag. Please, hug your babies for me. Never take for granted your sweet gifts of life. Even on the hardest days remember, you don't have to carry around a bag for your child's death in their diaper bag.

Much love to all you beautiful souls. Enjoy the sunshine and your precious little ones.

Heather

Wishes for tomorrow

   I keep thinking this will get easier. That one day the tears will stop. One day. Most days it's tolerable. Most days, I can handle the grief. And then, I look through photos of my daughter and my heart aches. The hot tears build up in the corners of my eyes. Blinking them away doesn't always work. Sometimes, they drop to my cheeks. Those tears sting my cheeks with a reminder that this pain, it will never go away. It will always be here taunting the back of my mind each day.
   Each time I step out in public and see a little girl running around, I'm reminded mine will never do that. Each trip to the store is carefully mapped out to avoid the baby sections. If I don't stick to my plan you'll find me staring at baby clothes like a deer in your headlights late at night. We both are not supposed to be where we are but, here we are, stunned and scared. And then, I end up crying in public which, I have a rule against. (No ugly crying public, it helps Noone and, makes me feel worse)
   When you have a baby, your brain changes but, when your baby dies, your brain doesn't switch back to how it was "before." I still see clothes and think "oh I need this for Adalynne" that thought is typically interrupted by the "uhhhh nevermind Heather, go get some kale and leave asap" thought. (Kale makes me feel better, don't judge)
   Ugh, the holiday season is so hard. Well, really each day is hard. Today is just a lazy Thursday and it's hard to sit on the couch and not cry uncontrollably. I try to remember all my lines I tell myself during these days; she's free and whole, she's no longer in pain and suffering, this was our story, you must accept it. Sometimes, they don't work and I'm just angry and sad.
   When those lines don't work, I resort to my next set of lines I tell myself.
   Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow, I'll be stronger. Today I can be weak, sad and hurt. Today, I'll miss her till I run out of tears and my head pounds from crying. But, tomorrow, tomorrow will be better.

Much love to all of you beautiful souls. Hug your babies for me today. A big, huge, squishy hug.