Letter to my sweetest

Dear Adalynne Marcella, 

  The year mark of loosing you is quickly approaching. I find myself reminding my brain that we've been 361 days (and counting) seizure free. 361 days with no breathing episodes. 361 days with no morphine or versed needed. But, the grief always sneaks in.... it's still been 361 days since I've been able to hold your earth body or smell your skin. 361 days since I've been able to kiss you and cuddle. Or giggle at your sweet little sighs when I turn off the rap music and take too many pictures.  I knew we'd depart but, I'd still have to carry on. The dreaded fate I stand face to face with and continue to battle each day.
  You're gorgeous blue eyes are burned into my memory. Like, an endless candle flame lighting the way to hope.  Hope. I have found its glimmer once more. I am learning that even though we couldn't donate to three babies, there is hope for us. Hope for me.  I promised you I'd never stop dancing for you, I won't my sweet. I promise now, to keep my eyes open to hope. To be able to find a new meaning of purpose.  It's taken me so long to start to get over of the anger and heartbreak of the "sorry to inform you but, your donation wasn't excepted" letter.  I'm eager to find a new purpose now. One, that fills my heart with as much love as your warm hugs did.  

  361 days of freedom for you and, even on my weakest moments.... I will celebrate your freedom. I chose to put your well-being and comfort first from the moment you were born. And, I will celebrate your freedom and peace every day, forever.  You are the light of my life and, always seem to find a new way to shine to me.  

All my love in the world babe,

 your omnibenevolent mommy.  

Rush hour

I've taken a break from wrighting. Quite a long one I'd say. I needed to let my heart heal a little more, find some peace and solace in life without Adalynne physically here. So much has happened in the few months. Too much in my opinion. At the end of this month... it will have been 1 year since I lost her. A whole damn year and I still sit crying on my floor some days. I thought being prepared for our departure would make it easier. It doesn't. I've met a lot of mama's online who, have lost their babies as well. All of our stories are different but, our pain is quite the same. I find strength in these courageous women but, can't make it to meet them yet. I still feel I'm too sore to talk somedays. Some seem so much braver than I am. They found a way to honor their babies. A purpose in this loss, one I'm still searching for. I don't think any part of me will be healed until I figure that part out.

I'm not rushing myself anymore though. I've learned that in order to "heal" I must allow myself time to do that. I cut out people that tried to rush me faster than my heart could handle. Everyone is so quick to tell you to just be happy and then dissappear once you get sad. Or tell me to hide in a room as to not upset others. I don't really like that mentality so, I'm staying away from those ones. I feel like I've been saying I'm not rushing myself for quite some time. Yet, I still find myself working on that. It's a process, I guess. Maybe if I say it enough I'll continue to follow it... one can hope! Haha

I seriously can't believe it's just about been a whole damn year. I've had more days without her than with her.. bless. I still have things of hers laying around. The ones I still can't bear to deal with. My breast pump, took me 6 months to get it out of my room... It has now sat almost another 6 months, patiently waiting near the door. I keep thinking, one day I'll be brave enough to take it out.  I have about 5 bags filled with her morphine and seizure meds in a basket hiding from my sight. Making sure I always had her pain medication, that was keeping her pain free was essential to my life... and I still find syringe caps all over the place.

I'm proud of myself too, I've come along way from crying over her crib while I slid it out of my room. A task that took me 45 minutes of hysterical sobbing. I can see her old spoons or baby food and not cry anymore. I just smile and think of her sweetness. And her little mouth, just a smacking away. *MamaSwoon*  damn, she was/is so freaking adorable. Still don't know what's the best way to refer to those type of things but, whatever. I'm rolling with the newfound weirdness that has become, my life. 

It's been a crazy Rollercoaster and it's not even close to being over. This month will bring emotions out I probably have hidden for awhile. I'm extremely looking forward to spending a few days this month at remembrance events with all of Adalynne's (and mine) favorite people. I'm learning these events are crucial to my sanity. I'm reminded she isn't forgotten and how amazing of a support system I have. And thankfully, no one left is rushing me anymore. I'm a happier woman this way

Love you all, thanks for reading my crazy thoughts and feelings blurted on a screen.
Much love, sweet souls. Have a splendid day/night.

Balance beam.

***warning of "bad" language***

..."no dalton left, his parents and brother were in a bad wreck"
...what?
*phone rings*
"heather, your parents and Ian were involved in a car accident by the school. Your dad is still pinned in the car, it was really bad. Have you talked to your brothers"
....
.......
*sinks to floor*
No.. no no no.  This is a dream..
I'm dreaming, and must wake up.
Sobs escaped my body while my brain ran 100 circles in my fucking head. 
What... how.. why... WHAT THE FUCKKK
I can't handle this. How can I do this. Oh my. Holy shit. Ian.
"Dalton, hey, what's going on?!"
"Mom n Dad were hit by someone, I don't know anything else. We are headed to the scene"
I can't breathe. This can't happen. What do I do now. How do I handle this.
"Head to the hospital and wait for the ambulance to arrive. Ian is missing"
What the fuck, how do you loose an 8 year old. Where is he? Why can't anyone find him? What the fuck do they mean missing?!
"They aren't scheduled to be coming to this hospital try babtist"
JESSICAAAAAA.
Oh fuck yes my rock is here, brain slow down please.
No.
I can't breathe. Why does it feel like there is no fucking oxygen is the air.
*phone rings*
DAD
"We are hurt bad and almost to the hospital, Ian will be alone. Go find him first."
"Okay, I love you"
How can I do this, what am I going to say. This isn't happening. I can't fucking believe this is happening.  I need to see them. Fucking breathe damnit.
No, it's not okay, stop saying that. I can't loose them too.
*checks every ambulance that pulls on*
No..
No..
Nope...
Not them..
MOM
"MOM, I'm here, everything is going be okay,  I love you,"
"I love you too"
*through the doors she goes*
"Dad, I'm here, I'm going to find ian, I love you."
"I love you too"
Stop thinking. Stop.
Breathe.
No blood. So far..
IAN.
*turns corner*
There is my baby boy.
"I'm okay."
I'm not.
"I was so worried"
I can breath now.

Having anxiety and going through life is a constant battle of calming your mind before doing or thinking of anything. My brain overloads itself to near shutdown at some points.
Strength is taking a deep breath before walking in a room to face your biggest fear. Simultaneously pushing those thoughts away to be delt with later or if at all.
I have now faced two of my biggest fears in life. Loosing a baby. And, over half my family being involved in a life ending car accident.
Through fear and unfortunate events in my life I'm learning balance. A lesson taught to me by the world's best 8 year old. You have to have good and bad to find balance in life. I have to go through these bad things to truly be able to enjoy the good things in life. I find emense joy walking into my living room and seeing them all sleeping peacefully now. Our living room has turned into a mini hospital room. Its full of blankets, pillows, medicines, ice packs and love. Lots of love and pure thankfulness to have them all home and taking on a caregiver role once again.

Plus I think there is more oxygen around here.

Much love to all of you. 💟 💟  Stay beautiful and full of love.

Thank you for protecting my family. 

Rip Sonata.

Windy times.

It doesn't matter how good my day is going or how happy I feel. Grief hits when it chooses too. It will unexpectedly grab at your throat, choking the tears out of your body. Anything can set it off.. a picture, a memory, a simple hat or baby shoes. It doesn't care if you have actually done your makeup or are out to dinner, or shopping. The sinking feeling of your heart dropping into your stomach pulls all your willpower to stop it out of you. Leaving us to feel empty...alone.... and broken.
I know she is "better now" but my heart isnt. The rips in my heart still bleed for her touch and kisses. One more moment to look into her beautiful eyes and hear her sigh at me, would I feel better after that? Probably not. I would have to loose her again. I couldn't say goodbye another time. Atleast now I can see her in the sky or feel her in the small moments. Walking through a store to find exactly her initials layed out for display, the moment the grief tries to creep in my mind.
Sometimes she fights the grief with me. If feels like we battle the grief together.  Her sword is a rainbow on a cloudy day or a shield of purple and red streaks throughout the skyline before the darkness takes over. One last shot at letting me know she's still fighting for us. We promised to give each other All of us, together we can get through this.
The tears still sting my cheeks as I look to the sky to find her. The cold wind whips my hair around like, my soul searching in all directions for something to grasp. Grief won't win today. Love will. I love my daughter with every atom of this vessel carrying my soul. I must let love fill my heart again. If my heart is going to be torn for the rest of my time on this earth, at least those rips will be filled with love and happiness.
Silver lining- crying makes my eyes really pretty.

I. Miss. You 

Christmas letter to my lost love.

Hey sweet baby,
I miss you
Last year we spent the night cuddled up together laying in my bed. I watched you peacefully drift to sleep and cherished that we had made it to Christmas together.  I got one Christmas with you. The best one of my whole life. You were my greatest gift. You morphed me into a superhuman I didn't know I could be.
   We woke up Christmas morning and opened your gifts together. I remember being so upset I couldn't buy you everything I wanted to give you. But you didnt care, you loved me regardless.  Our time together was your gift to me. Mine was to love and care for you unconditionally.  We were such a great team my sweet love. I wish I was putting you to bed and wrapping gifts for you to open in the morning with Ian. Mommy's heart hurts today babe.
   I keep a straight face to the world. Even my friends seem to forget sometimes. I don't want to see baby girl stuff. I still can't go into Targets baby section without my heart shattering into teeny pieces. Damn babe, some nights I can't even sit on this bed without my throat clenching while I blink back the tear waiting to pool and drop onto my cheeks.
  I was doing so well today. Then I stopped and turned and saw the tree I got you. I decorated it with some of your favorite things. I'll put it out for you every year and add more to it each time. It's beautiful and purple, which is our favorite,  obviously.  I know you love the cupcakes and butterflies on it. Gammie set up my village all around it. You know, because even our holiday world revolves around you. 😊

I really miss you.

Thank you for giving me the best memories of my life. You taught me so much in your short time with me. I promise I will never let your light stop shining. Everyone around me can forget but I wont. I will be at every Memorial service, candle light service, and walk to remember my body can take. I will never forget you Adalynne. I promised you I would give you All Of Me and I will never let you down.
Merry Christmas Adalynne Marcella, my true miracle and the best gift I could ever have gotten was waking up with you still breathing on December 25th 2014. I love you forever.

Love Mommy.

 

Shine brighter than a diamond

Hello sweet souls,

  Today is Worldwide Candle Lighting day for all the children across the world who have left our arms too soon. I found out about it just a few days ago and was relieved the Kate B Reynolds Hospice House was holding a candle ceremony.                    
  Last time I was here I ran in, dropped brownies off and left as quickly as I could. Before then... was the day I said goodbye to my warriors broken vessel and let her soul go free. I stood and watched the first sunset my baby girl could see. I remember it so clearly. Bright hues of pink, blue and purple beamed across the skyline. Filling my heart with hope I'd get through this. Reminding myself that she was now painfree and whole. I feel that feeling each time I look up in the sky. My heart still hurts though.
  I thought I would handle tonight so well. I'd light a candle, celebrate her light shining, it would be all good. Then, it came time for me to say her name out loud. I was among all these other families feeling a similar stinging ache in their souls but, saying her name.... I almost didn't get it out. I choked back big ugly sobs to speak the words.
Adalynne Marcella Scherer
Saying it out loud made it feel too real. A type of pain that I can't describe in words. Only the ones of us already known to this feeling understand.
  This was my first one of these types of things. I was extremely happy to have some of my support their with me. They spoke her name and shined her light with me. We cried together and then laughed at Ian who was ready for the doughnuts they served afterwards. He always keeps us laughing when we need it.
  Even though tonight was hard for me I know it will get easier each time.  Next time I'll be able to say her name with a little more ease. This hopefully will be the hardest one I go to. Maybe next time I'll be ready to speak to the other parents instead of holding my bear and breathing back tears. Maybe not, I'm not sure yet. For now, I'll get through each day the best I can. I'll strive to shine the light of my warrior baby each day.
Have a good night sweet souls. Hug your babies tight for me and all the parents who can't tonight. 

Much love,
Heather.

Tick-tock

  Tonight is one of those nights where my mind won't stop and my heart is heavy. Tonight, I scooped up my babybear like I used to hold my baby. I held her head and stroked her back, just like I used to with my baby. We have been laying in bed snuggling while, silent tears run down my face, just like I used to with my baby. It feels the same, yet so different.  Adalynne and I used to be up for hours on end throughout the night. Working through breathing episodes and seizures. Id spend my nights trying to get her to eat maybe 2 ozs over 3 hours, most of the time she would throw it all back up..on me. #Vomsquad Then, we would lay together and snuggle and I'd kiss her all over. She would sigh at me, like the diva she was. I would lay there and silent cry, thinking this could be my last moment with my warrior earthside. Now, I lay here and cry wishing for one more moment.
  Days have gotten easier but, the nights.... oh the nights when I lay alone in my bed are the worst. I still look over for her crib even through its been over 6 months since she was in it. I hear squeaks in our wooden floors and panic thinking "oh no, the breathing episode is starting" but, it's not. It's quiet... and lonely...
   Tonight, I snuggle my bear and try to feel her again. I don't know how parents live after the loss without something to hold on to. This bear holds my hand, and heals my heart. I gave my baby's body to our hospice nurse and she returned to me in this bear. I'm so thankful for my bear...

But damnit I miss my baby.

Tonight is now tomorrow and tomorrow will be better. Deep breaths till I fall asleep, holding my bear as I do everynight. Grief knows no time limit and doesn't care if you're exhausted and fed up with crying. Let it happen naturally and then march on.

All my love readers,

From one sad mommy tonight.