Heavenly Kisses

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After Emme passed away last year, we received a lot of plants and flowers from our friends and family. I remember feeling happy seeing our home surrounded with life in a time where death loomed. I especially loved this huge white orchid sent to us from our good friends in New York. I cared for them as much as I could, although I have never had a green thumb and every orchid I have owned (many! I used to get 4 new orchids delivered weekly at my office) has always met an unfortunate end. 
I still have most of the plants I received, and thankfully my mother in law (she has a huge garden) has helped keep them alive for me. The orchid, however, didn’t look to be doing too well but I was emotionally attached to it, so I kept it. I watered it whenever I would remember, cleaned it up a bit and would stare at its beautiful white vase, knowing the vase was probably all I would have left once I had the courage to dispose of it. 

On the first week of April my mother in law noticed buds on the orchid and congratulated me on taking such good care of it. All throughout the month of April this orchid has continued to bloom it’s white beautiful fruit. But I can’t take any credit for it. I did nothing right. The temperature was too cold for it, it was getting too much water and there, frankly, is no reason why this orchid should have rebloomed a year after I got it, marking Emme’s one year anniversary. 
I don’t think it was chance. It was my little Giant in the Heavenlies sending her momma kisses and hugs. 

Elea Mackenzie, in cahoots with her sister, waited until May 1st to make her arrival although she was due in April. And when Elea was born, she weighed 9 pounds, 4.7 ounces, Emme weighed 4.7 pounds. Again, you can say it was chance and I’m looking for these things but the truth is I wasn’t, they were just so clear for me to see. 

As my family immerses in loving on Elea, I am so thankful to know that my Little Giant is overjoyed in knowing her sister is here, safe and sound, all while receiving little kisses to bring to me. 

Three Blissful Years

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Five years ago this month, I began dating Eric. Three years ago today, I married the man of my dreams. He has been my anchor, held me and loved me on my darkest nights and without a doubt, bent over backwards to ensure my heart is filled with joy.

                                               

Marriage has been amazing. He is the ying to my yang, and shown patience throughout our relationship. Weeks went by this past year where I couldn’t get out of bed. I couldn’t do anything but cry. And Eric would just hold me. He demanded nothing of me. All he wanted was for me to know he loved me. 
                                                         

Countless were the nights where we went to bed crying together. Mourning our loss while continuing to walk. Yet we did not allow anything to shake us. We stood side by side, faithfully believing we would overcome.

                                                        
I remember meeting Eric for the first time, and instantly knowing there was something about him I really enjoyed. Our first conversation involved sales, college and Greek life. He immediately identified as a Mighty Trojan and I, as a Tenacious Golden Bear! Not knowing we would later cross paths again, this moment I always remembered.

                                             
Our connection was instant and it was difficult to hide. As much as neither one of us wanted anything ‘serious’, we quickly ended up permanently intertwined. We enjoyed being together, and growing old together only seemed natural. 
Nathan, Emme and Elea

Our relationship has not been peaches and cream the entire five years, but I would say, there has been nothing we haven’t been able to battle as one. We grow from each other, learn from one another, and constantly try to make ourselves better. We support our dreams and constantly search for growth. Most importantly, we place our relationship at the forefront, knowing that just like anything else, it too needs caring and love to continue on its path. 

Eric is my number one fan, and I am his. I point out his flaws with love, as he does mine. Although five years seems like a significant time, I look forward to spending my life with the man who makes me a thousand times better.

                       

8 Golden Days

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8 Golden Days

I was blessed to have my Emme for as long as I did, eight days outside the womb. Although those eight days held the deadliest storm I have ever wavered, they also allowed me to experience love like never before. They allowed my daughter to touch hearts and bring the Healer to many homes, including my own.

The past eight days have been a whirlwind of emotions. I remember everything like it happened yesterday. I remember sitting in my mothers living room, clutching Nathan so tight, while I sobbed. I remember feeling the heaviness in my heart. The physical ache in my chest that weighed tons. I remember living in the NICU and wanting nothing more than to wake up from my nightmare. I remember the awful feeling of trying to feel and ingrain every second of the days into my memory. I remember believing that I would have Emme longer. I remember her beautiful cry for me and the touch of her skin against mine as she nursed. The sound she made when she swallowed my milk. How her little body felt against mine, as she slept all night snuggled on my chest.

Natey loving on Emme

 I remember how awful it felt when I began to realize that that Sunday would be my last Sunday with her. I remember calling her name after each breathe she took, wanting her to hold on just a little longer. I remember hating the blue marks that the morphine was leaving on her lips, as we tried to soothe her. I remember feeling like I was outside my body and this was not happening to me. I remember holding her tightly for hours after she was gone. I remember changing her one last time with my mothers help, getting her ready to go into the white wicker basket they took her in. I remember running my fingers through every part of her body, trying to memorize everything about it. Her little nose, her lips, her straight silky black hair, her little round tummy, her perfect little toes.

I remember not understanding how completely broken I felt but how everything outside the window continued to look so perfect. The trees, the flowers, the green grass, the neighbors walking their dogs, all while a van sat in my drive way waiting for me to give them my little girl. Even as I write this, my body aches from the heaviness of it all.

This year has definitely been a journey. A journey where everything I knew and believed in was called to question and rebuilding from ashes was all there was left. I am glad that I have come to a period in my journey where I can focus on the positive things that came out from this tragedy. I can appreciate things that I missed in the darkness. I can find joy in these eight days, in the midst of the darkness.

Elea Mackenzie
As my body prepares to give birth to my third child any day now, I smile knowing that Emme and Elea met in heaven. Emme probably even gave Elea tips and sprinkled her with golden dust. 

As the eighth day comes to an end tonight, and I sit here covered in tears and snot, I know that my Father sits next to me, holding me, mourning with me, healing my heart one day at a time.

Your voice holds me together
When I feel like I’m falling apart
I place my world in Your hands
You come and steady my heart
I feel you in the stillness
I know that You are good
I feel you in the stillness
I know that you are good
–Nearness by Jenn johnson, J.P. Jentile, Janie Taylor, Robby Busick

Emme’s Act of Kindness

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Emme Sophia Zurbrugg
Dear Family and Friends, 
On Emme’s birthday, we would like you to join us in remembering our brave, precious little girl who showed tremendous strength in fighting so valiantly for her life, gave us all her love, touched us at a deep, visceral level and taught us valuable lessons about life. For this, we are forever grateful and blessed. 
In honor of Emme’s first birthday, we hope you will participate in her Kindness project.  The Kindness project was created for bereaved families as a way to honor their children gone too soon, by sharing them with those who never had a chance to meet them. 
The idea is to perform a random act of kindness in your community. Big or small, all that matters is that it comes from the heart. We would be delighted to hear about it (if you would like to share) either through a letter  (confessionsofawifemothercook@gmail.com) or picture (#emmesactofkindness). 

Thank you for all your unwavering support to our family throughout this past year. 

Sincerely yours,
Eric, Karla and Nathan 

#emmesactofkindness

Emme’s Birth Story

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Emme is born 11:24 am
I tossed and turned all night knowing that we would be a family of 4 before the day ended. They were inducing me at 9am, at 39 weeks and 5 days, 2 days short of 40 weeks. Nathan had arrived on his own, 4 days past his due date. Emme had decided not to turn around and was therefore going to be pulled out via c-section. I was extremely nervous about the c-section, although many mothers had told me that it would be done sooner than natural birth and it would be less painful. I remembered how painful it had been when Nathan was born, how much I had pushed to bring my little prince out, so I could definitely do without much pain during the labor this time around, given that I had no choice. We drove to my mothers house and dropped off Nathan. We told him we were going to go get his little sister and that soon enough he would come to the hospital and meet her. We reminded him that Emme was bringing him a gift, and that he would be so excited to see it. I remember embracing him so tightly.

We checked into the hospital where we were soon admitted into our room. Soon enough nurses began to come in and out of the room, setting up my IV and prepping me for major surgery. I remember the nice older nurse having difficulty with my IV. She kept apologizing while I cried. At the moment I wasn’t sure why I cried. She kept saying sorry and I kept saying I was ok; I was simply nervous since I had never had a c-section. Eric held my hand telling me we were going to be ok and to think of the beautiful baby we would soon hold in our arms. We even took a picture of ourselves right before they rolled me away. Eric kept telling me not to be afraid but my heart was heavy. I was scared.

They rolled me into the operating room where there were 8 people, all for different jobs, prepared for an emergency and if anything would go wrong with either me or the baby. They brought the anesthesiologist and began the process of numbing me. My tears kept rolling down my cheeks and I remember the doctor telling me that everything was going to be fine and it would be over so quickly. I nodded my head and continued to stay still, as they injected the needle in my back. Slowly I felt the cold liquid run through my back and I laid down.

I felt the pressure of the incision as they cut through five layers of tissue. One by one they got closer to my little girl. I felt something removed and I knew she was no longer inside me but I heard no cry. I heard a heavy silence. I asked how much she weight and why she wasn’t crying. The doctor quickly responded saying that sometimes they had to do a couple extra steps to let the baby know it was outside. Seconds later I heard her sweet cry. My heart was at ease and my doctors began to sow me right up as they talked about some mediocre hospital administration issues. Then they rolled Emme right pass me, stopping very quickly so I could see her, we locked eyes and it was then I saw her blue eyes and how much she looked like Nathan. I smiled as they explained they needed to take her for some extra check ups to make sure everything was ok. Eric left with her.

They rolled me into a waiting room, where an empty bassinet laid next to me. The nurse shared no new information with me, as I laid there waiting for Eric to come back. My world changed the second Eric walked in with a heavy heart I could see through his watered eyes. I saw my husband like I had never seen him before. He was devastated. I quickly asked how bad it was to which he responded, they wouldn’t know until tests came back but they knew something wasn’t right.

They moved me into the visiting room where my immediate family soon showed up. And one by one I could see how strong they wanted to be as all I could do was cry and come in and out of sleep. As the doctors began to come in and out of our room we knew it was bad but tests were not all back so they couldn’t tell us what they thought she had. Physically Emme looked perfect but she was struggling to breathe on her own. I wasn’t allowed to go see her because I couldn’t walk, so I refused the narcotics and forced myself to walk up and down the halls with Eric’s help, within hours of my surgery. I had to go see her. I finally got the ok after I begged my nurse, only to start dripping blood as I made myself walk through the hall. After a quick clean up, I finally got to lay eyes on my Little Giant and hold her  close.

It was Tuesday morning when I heard the devastating words, Emme had a chromosomal disorder which was incompatible with life. Eric and I weren’t carriers. It was chance. She should not have made it full term. She should have died in the womb. The words hit me like bricks. One after the other. Beating me down to a dark, dark place. Everything became a blur. Fog rolled in. My world as I knew it had ended.

I could sugar coat Emme’s birth story, and somehow have it end with hope. But that’s not how it felt then. Hope didn’t exist. Devastation felt awful. It penetrated me emotionally and physically. 
This is my story. 

April is Back

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Our Family of Five

My heart grows heavy knowing that I gave birth to my daughter almost 1 year ago. And instead of holding her in my arms, cuddling away, helping her blow out her first birthday candles, I’m searching for the perfect words for her first years post.

                                                          
Emme’s Easter
April is such a heavy month for us. It brings much joy but it also brings tears. Five years ago this month, Z and I had our first date. Three years ago this month we will have been married 3 years. My father is turning 63, the same day Emme would have turned 1. We celebrate Emme’s birth and mourn her passing, as we expect our third child this month as well. 
Overwhelmed is an understatement. I find myself having really difficult days and ok days. I feel a rush of emotions coming at me every day, all while I try to stay afloat. I know this is a journey, there isn’t anything that will make it permanently better. Every day is a new day and how I deal with every day is the choice I get.

Believe

I want April to come by as quickly as possible, but at the same time I want it to be a snail. I want to feel everything about it because feeling allows me to remember. And I love remembering Emme and everything she touched. 
Emme’s First Birthday Cake
  Nathan blew out her first birthday candle yesterday. He told me he was doing it for Emme in heaven 😭 It was definitely a bitter sweet day, celebrating Easter and my little girls first birthday without her. 

   

Five Zurbrugg Strawberries

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The last couple weeks I’ve been working on a very important conference where I will be speaking about this past year. It has stirred up emotions and uncoverd things I had missed in the fog. In stirring emotions, I’ve been having days filled of joy from things I am grateful happened but also grieving intensely for things I wish would have gone differently. 

Yesterday, I felt overwhelmed by sadness. Overwhelmed by the love I have around me but missing my little eleven month olds love. I was sitting next to Nate as he was having dinner and said the following: “papa Eric, big boy Nene (referring to himself), mami Karla, baby Emme, baby Elea.” It instantly melted my heart and put a smile on my face. 
Who knew five strawberries could make you so happy. 
xoxo

My Circle of Love

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There is nothing like knowing that you are loved.

Yesterday I was surrounded by a very special group of women. Strong women. Women who have made these past 11 months a little more bearable through their actions.

In my experience, I have found that many people (a lot, actually) are very uncomfortable with death. They don’t know what to say or how to react around you. They want to comfort you but simply don’t know how. And this symptom seems to be heightened when it’s the death of a child. Somehow it feels worse. 
I remember early on being approached by a friend  who said the following to me: ” I don’t know what to say. Nothing I can say will make it better, in fact I may make you feel worse in trying to make you feel better. I want to talk about Emme with you. Is that something you want to do?” Her honesty hit home and her approach could not have been any better. She didn’t know what to say or do but wanted to comfort me. All I wanted to do then and now, is to acknowledge Emme, talk about her beauty and impact upon my life. I gave birth to my second child almost a year ago, she forever marked my life. 
These women loved me. They surrounded me with love and tried to bring rays of light when everything was overcast. They wrote me cards, sent me my favorite candy, hugged me, cooked for me, consoled me with silence when there was nothing else to do but cry. They continue to remember and mourn with me. They loved me for who I was before Emme and love me even more now for being Emme’s mother. 
As Emme’s first birthday approaches, they too remember with me and celebrate a short but memorable life. 
I thank God for surrounding me with the best friends anyone could ever ask for, and then sprinkling them with some extra golden glitter, to make them EXTRA special.
xoxo

A Part of Something

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Nathan loving on Emme
       When you lose a child, there are very few people who can understand your grief. The struggles of every day life that overwhelm a grieving parent are a lifelong journey. They never go away. Ever. And although every parents grief is different there is something about being together that no one will ever understand but a grieving parent. There are things you can say that no one would understand unless they have suffered and survived their child’s death. There is a comfort that your fellow grieving parent can provide you with, that frankly, no one else can. There is a connection so deep, (and believe me you don’t want to ever have to have this relationship) that you can’t even compare a life long friendship to a friendship you’ve only had for a couple months with a parent who has experienced a loss. 
                                                     

        Eric and I were blessed to find the MISS foundation the month Emme passed. We were guided to it by a friend. It became our salvation. A group no one wants to be part of (as our group leader always says) but we are happy to have when we need it, if ever. This group of parents showed us compassion, love and an open forum where no subject was off limits. We were all victims of the same thing, the loss of our beautiful children. 
                                                     

Our loss brings us together once a month, allowing us to cry and let our feelings be known, all while receiving comforting words of encouragement, that we too, will one day allow the sun rays to come through when our hearts are ready. That joy will pierce into our canvas when our hearts are ready. That we too, will enjoy life, once again. It will never be the same as it was before, with all the innocence we knew, but we wouldn’t want to know joy without our beautiful gems. We wouldn’t want to have been without them. Months, years, days…anything we had with them, was worth living. I would relive everything I have these past 11 months for those beautiful 8 days I was able to hold my Little Giant. 

                                                    
Grief is not linear, although almost every book out there would have you believe it is. It is NOT 5 simple stages. You don’t stop grieving once you reach the fifth stage. You may never feel the fifth stage! Grief is an individual road, with similarities, and all is acceptable, days, months, years past your loss. 
                                                     

I am grateful for my new family, even if they don’t know they are part of me now. There are many people who played a role and continue to do so in my healing, and although they don’t know it, I am grateful and bless their lives every day I am able to wake and take in a breathe of air. 
xoxo
                          In loving memory of Jackson, Alexandria, Sophia, Theo, Lily and Emme. 

When a Mexican Fiesta Cake Goes Wrong

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Emme’s maternity shoot

 My morning started off feeling heavy. I tossed all night without ever being able to get a good night sleep. I had no energy to get out of bed had it not been for Nate saying ” Let’s go sala (Spanish for living room) mami.” I have been feeling overwhelmed by everything and everyone. But it all comes down to one little person, my little Giant. Her absence has been heavier than ever. I can feel myself putting her in the white basket she left in. I can feel the loss of her touch as I snuggled her tightly one last time. I can feel the light weight of her body lying on my chest the last night she spent with me.

This morning as I was making my little prince his breakfast, Z comes around the corner and makes a simple request: Can I please find some time today to do some, not all, just some of the laundry. Simple right. I completely agree with you. However as the words came out of his mouth I imagined myself running away into a nice little cave, all while crying my eyes out. I responded with I will try my best with tears in my eyes, all while trying to understand why in the world doing laundry was flipping me out.

8 Golden days

Nate and I had errands to run all morning as we were hosting a surprise Mexican 25th Fiesta party for my little sister. As we went from store to store I felt worse and worse and worse. My mind kept escaping my body, wandering away with Emme. It took all the energy I had to bring myself into a peaceful place where I could focus on the present. I ran through my list of thankfulness and talked to my Father, trying to make myself realize how much worse it could be.

As I looked for the perfect birthday cake, my frustration grew as I was unable to find the right size and taste. As a solution Nate and I decided to make our own cake. We have baked tons of stuff but never a flan, especially for 20 people. As Nate and I boiled all the contents and slowly stirred away for 40 minutes, I began to wonder when it would come to a boil. It being my first time, I have no idea how long it would take to boil and while I thought I was paying attention (I was standing right in front of the pot stirring with Nate), the whole thing blew up in seconds and Flan flew EVERYWHERE! It took me 45 minutes to clean up the mess, all while Nate and I laughed.

This was my aha! moment. Something can be starring you right in the face but you will miss it if you aren’t in the present. My cake boiling over was the best thing that happened. We figured out how to salvage whatever was left and the birthday flan ended up being one of my best creations yet. My day turned around, all while giving me more work 🙂 Although it’s perfectly normal to be overwhelmed and saturate yourself in how you feel, I have to remember, as hard as it is, that there are great things happening around me but I will miss them if I’m not present. I may feel horrible now, and I can and should embrace it, but I should also allow the sun rays to pierce in.

Tia Dini blowing out her birthday candles

xoxo