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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

11 Months Later

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As my little Emme’s first birthday approaches I find myself sitting in front of my computer figuring out the right wording for her birthday card. We have decided to send out cards in her memory. And although, to me, it is a beautiful way to have family and friends remember her on her birthday, it makes me extremely sad that that’s what I’m doing 30 days before her big first. 
I SHOULD be planning a ridiculously expensive tutu party with lots of pink and gold glitter. I should be stressing out about all the DIY Pinterest ideas I want to get done before the beginning of the month…so many should have beens and could have beens…instead I sit here with glassy eyes staring at a blank screen, with no words able to describe the enormous loss I deal with every day. 
Every night this past week I have imagined my little 11 month old, Emme, trying to give her first steps, as she is assisted by her big brother. I have imagined hearing the giggles of two of my children in my home. I have imagined everything so differently. 
I remember last Easter being the saddest time of my life. It was hard to smile and watch my little boy open his Easter basket without his sister. I had imagined the holiday so differently. Often times it has felt like Groundhog Day, everyday for the past 11 months. Looking back at pictures is difficult, especially the ones with smiles, because they were the most difficult to take. 
ELEVEN months. I can’t believe we have made it through 11 months. The year has gone by so slow and yet so fast. It’s bitter sweet. Time makes things feel different but I wouldn’t say it makes it better. It simply feels different. 
Needless to say, I think this month will be a bit harder than the last couple of months. But like the past 11 months, we will keep walking forward, loving deeper, and placing our lives in our Father’s hands. 
xoxo

“This is My Third Baby”

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To the average person these are easy words to say, even easier to read off a piece of paper. But to a mother who has lost a child, the answer to “ Is this your first baby?” when you are alone or  “ Is this your second baby?” when you are with your surviving child, can take your breath away by punching you in the stomach with a flood of emotions. Ten months later, I can proudly say, with tearful eyes, It did not take my breath away this last time, and it was one of the proudest moments of my life in a room filled of strangers. 
Z and I had just walked into a clients home, where all had gathered to see his finished project. And within 3 minutes of walking in, my ever-growing baby bump began to be admired and was followed by the dreaded question, “is this your first baby?”, to which I responded without hesitation, “no, it is my third.” The conversation briefly moved to the delivery room and how easy this third baby should come, to which I laughed and said it would be a piece of cake! My heart pumped so fast and loud, I thought everyone in that three story glass house could hear my heart beat. Z grabbed my hand and we continued the tour. 
Once we were on the rooftop, the same person, Amy, approached me and while surrounded by others proceeded to ask about my other two children. I answered as gracefully as I could to which she answered, “You are so brave. When I asked you downstairs you answered so nicely with 3. I lost my first born and I have never been able to do what you just did.” It turns out Amy is a therapist who focuses on families who have lost a child. We spoke for a while as we encouraged each other and shared similar feelings. 
This whole event was less than 2 hours of my life, but it will be one that I will always remember. It was the first of many moments where I didn’t fall apart or allow sorrow to overcome. By no means does this interaction mean I will never fall apart again or I will be able to answer so bravely to everyone. I won’t. I will fall apart. But its the process. Each day I get a little braver. Every day I love Emme deeper. And every day my tears roll down my cheeks for my little Giant in the Heavenlies but I also grow stronger.  

xoxo

The Song of my Heart

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It’s 2:32am and I can’t sleep. I have a bad case of insomnia. There is nothing I dislike the most than not being able to sleep when I’m tired. But I’m not upset about it. I’m lying in bed and all I can think about is the song my heart sings for Emme, every day. It is such a beautiful song and unconsciously it plays on repeat. Every scene of the song has become so tangible I can walk in and out of it. I spend time with my daughter every day, and my heart is joyous.

My heart has tailored the song to Emme and it goes like this: 
Emme, you have been forever you will be
Baby there is no time limit on your destiny
Baby you have made a permanent mark on me 
Thought seemingly a whisper 
Your life has brought me to my knees 
you’re a giant in the heavenlies
My little giant in the heavenlies 
Emme
Because where you are is where we want to be
Dancing on the feet of our father 
So Emme save a place for me 
Dance on the feet of our father 
Emme you have been 
Forever you will be
Emme there is no time limit on your destiny 
Emme you have made a permanent make on me 
And though the pain within me lingers you bring me to my prince of peace 
you’re a giant in the heavenlies
My little giant in the heavenlies

Emme 

This song, Goldie, was written by Amanda cook for her precious friend’s late daughter, Luca Gold (see original ). It has become emme’s lullaby. I feel so close to her when my mothers heart sings it to my precious baby. 

                                 


Emme would be 9 months this January. Instead of loving on my baby I bask on the handful of memories I have of us. And though my heart breaks every day, wishing for brief seconds my reality would have been different, I find joy in what I have. Especially knowing one day we will be able to embrace once again, as we should have been able to do a lifetime. 

                                             


I can’t say joy is easy to find everyday, especially in the midst of mourning. But once found, it overflows. #choosejoy 

                                           



Xo,
Karla 


On Turning Thirty

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What does it mean to turn 30? or better yet, what valuable life lessons have I learned in 30 years?

If I truly answered the question I would probably never end this post, so I will keep it to my top five.

1. Without a relationship with God, whatever that may look like to you, life is not as good. I’ve known this to be the case for a long time, but never has it been more real for me than this year. My Father has taken me by the hand on many, many nights and walked me out of dark places, showing me the light that was so difficult for me to see. He has shown me unconditional love, hope and opened my eyes to beautiful things we miss from being caught up in our every day lives. What I have come to learn and would like to share on this topic, is a relationship with God is simply talking to him like you do your best friend. All you have to do is open your heart and be completely sincere. He is not intrusive, he will only come in if you allow him to. He is patient. He will wait.

2. Nothing makes you exempt to the possibility of bad situations, but you can’t let those possibilities prevent you from moving forward in life. After experiencing the death of my daughter, and knowing the chance of it happening to me (1 in 10,000), life dimmed a little for me. I was scared, hesitant about day to day things, and looked upon life with weary eyes. My daughter has taught me that’s not a good way to look at life. We spent the best 8 days of our lives together, cuddling to no end and being any normal mother and daughter. These days in my home were just like everyone else’s. Emme didn’t live her days hesitant of life and what it would bring. She spent her days loving me and getting to know everything about her mama. This is how I have chosen to live my life moving forward. There are always going to be things that don’t go as planned. Mourn them. Mourn them all your life, if you would like, that’s ok, but grow from them. Be stronger. Be braver. And smile when all you can do is cry.

3. Love big. Z has never liked it when I make comments about loving like it’s your last day on earth, but deep love like that is necessary. Your babies can feel it, your family can feel it, your partner can feel it…in fact, everyone can feel it. Your home will be warmer and love will enter your home simply because you give it. Moreover, your children will become adults that can love and be loved.

4. Forgiveness. You must be able to forgive and let go. There is no point to forgiving and keeping a grudge. It will rot inside and eventually show its ugly colors. Forgiving will also make you a happier person, even if the person who hurt you should be the one asking for forgiveness. Although difficult to do, you will feel so good about it after. I promise.

5. Be relentless. In anything you want in life, be it your family, work, spiritual life, personal growth, don’t give up. There will always be obstacles, some will even knock you out with their hopelessness but let me tell you, there is always light where darkness seems to reign. Always.

This year has been a rough year for me, to say the least, but hope can never be crushed. I thank the Lord for the unforeseen and for the things I do not understand. For the things to come and for those that came and left too soon. I thank him for the undeniable strength he has given me every day so I am able to mourn with grace. Death will not overcome. 


The Unwanted Visitor

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Today I took Nathan to art class and was taken aback by grief. The thing about grief is that you get to a good place and you feel like you are making progress and then something happens and you are right back where you started. You feel as though someone punched you in the stomach and you’re gasping for air.

This morning in art class I bumped into a mommy I had not seen since I was pregnant with Emme. I was really happy to see her and her now almost two year old. As we settled in to talking, she quickly asked with a huge smile on her face, ” how is the baby girl? She’s what? Five months now, right?”. My heart felt the heaviest it has felt in weeks. Thousands of feeling slapped my face from all directions and my body immediately began heating up. The mothers around us turned with smiling faces waiting for my response. I was filled with sadness as I answered, “Yes, she would have been 5 months today, but she didn’t make it.” Her reaction was very loving and unlike many, she immediately offered her condolences and continued the conversation with me. My sister, who happened to be spending the morning with me, immediately sat by my side and played and talked with Nathan. Although she didn’t say anything, I was grateful she sat by my side, as it took everything within me to compose myself.

Yes, today my little Emme Sophia would have been 5 months. We, together, would have been anxiously expecting the arrival of her best friend. She would have been snuggled tightly in my Ergo Baby, as her big brother painted stars on the wall. It would have been a very different day.

There is not a day that goes by that I don’t think of her. There will never be a day I don’t think of her. The pain of not having her with me burns just as intensely as it did the day she left earth. As my little family moves forward, our little Emme will always move forward with us. She is a huge part of everything with do now, and will always be.

Happy 5 month Birthday my Sweet Girl! Mommy loves you.

Kintsukuroi

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We recently came back from traveling for several weeks, and the first thing I noticed (several times now) as I walked into our home was the Easter Bunny hanging on our door. I have had more than enough opportunities to take it down but I can’t gather the strength to do so. Frankly, it comes down to grieving. In my heart, I am still struggling to get through the month of April. While I realize it is almost September, my world came to a stop 4 1/2 months ago and it is barely taking baby steps to try and move forward. 



There is a lot of brokenness inside. And though I thought it would never be repaired, I can feel my Father molding me back together. It doesn’t and will not happen over night, but I will be even more beautiful because of my little Emme. I am in the process of Kintsukuroi, which is the art of repairing with gold and understanding that the piece is even more beautiful for having been broken. 

So although it is still Easter at our home, I’m embracing every single memory April blessed me with. 

“The reality is that you will grieve forever.
You will not ‘get over’ the loss of a loved one;
you will learn to live with it. 
You will heal and rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered.
You will be whole again, but you will never be the same.
Nor should you be the same, 
nor would you want to.”

-Elizabeth Kubler-Ross and John Kessler