As much as I thought I had read and fully prepared myself to do away with diapers, potty training is potty training. There is no way around it. There is no such thing ( at least for me and Nathan) as a three day training method and we’re done. It is definitely one of those things that time will make perfect.

First day of training: July 3, 2014

Clearly Natey loved his potty

                                                         

    

Natey’s first travel potty pee!

There are a lot of things that I find myself doing that most would probably find a bit odd, unless, you too, have known the depth of losing a child. I scroll through my Emme’s pictures every night, and listen to Amanda Cook’s strengthening lyrics, all while I lay down with Emme’s heart on my chest. A dear friend sent me a beautiful heart a little after Emme’s passing. It weighs exactly what Emme weighed at birth, and it’s beautiful. At night I lay it on my chest and clear all my thoughts, and I can feel Emme ‘s skin against mine. I can smell her soft smell. I can smile and picture her with our Father, dancing on his feet, as the happy baby she was.

I have been called brave a lot lately. I wouldn’t necessarily call myself brave, but I would say I am trying my very best to be happy. Happiness. As I write the word it almost seems so far away from where I am now. But I am happy for many things. I am happy for Emme and the time I was given with her. I am happy that I got to take pictures of her. I am happy that she slept on my chest a whole night. I am happy I was able to love her for a lifetime in 8 days. I am happy that all she knew on earth was love.

A few weeks ago I had to leave an event to go pump.  As I sat in the hotel room, with tears streaming down my cheeks, I stopped myself from feeling the way a child feels when abandoned by its parents. I felt alone and inconsolable. I got up, pulled myself together and headed towards the door and just then I thought aloud: I am not without my baby, in fact, you could say I am a mother to many infants because my little Emme’s milk is feeding many little ones. I smiled.

Every day is a new day. What made me cry yesterday may not today. What made me cry today may bring me joy tomorrow. It’s all new. Every day. And in my Father my hope is renewed.

When I first met my husband, Eric, I immediately felt a connection with him. I later found out he did as well. We both tried our very hardest to avoid the inevitable. I had recently moved from the Bay after a break up and Eric knew I wasn’t just another girl, I was probably going to be THE girl. So we continued to go about our lives, trying very hard not to cross the line. But we did, and that was the beginning to our beautiful relationship.

April was a big month for us. It marked the coming of our baby, Emme, us being together for almost 5 years (going back to our first date) and being married for 2 years. It was supposed to be the happiest month of the year for us but it turned out to be the hardest. It was hard to meet our little girl after expecting her for 9 months and to have to say goodbye eight days after she met us. As I fell apart holding my daughter for the last time, Eric held me tight and without having to say a word, he overwhelmed me with love. He stood by my side from the moment we were going into labor to the moment Emme went to heaven.

He has been my rock through it all. He reminds me how much God loves our family and will get us through this difficult time. He tells me he loves me and doesn’t take my ‘I don’t feel good’ moments as a time to leave me alone. He simply lays next to me comforting me in silence. When I have hard days, and find everything difficult to do, he loves me for getting the simplest of things accomplished. He always asks me how I’m doing and what I need. He reminds me of how much I am loved and how this love strengthens me. He gets me to talk about the happy moments we have shared as a family and how soon we will be able to see light.

Nathan and Emme remind me so much of Eric. Nathan has always been so relaxed, friendly and loving towards everyone. Nothing has ever been a big deal with Nathan, not even teething! I was never able to tell when he was getting a new tooth because he showed no signs of pain or discomfort. Emme was the same, relaxed, extremely friendly and ready for whatever was next, even if it didn’t sound too good. Emme was a fighter, she wanted to meet us and she did, she wanted to spend time with us outside the hospital, and she did. Her sweet nature got her spoiled by everyone.

Like his children, Eric moves forward in life always mindful of others and willing to lend a helping hand. He loves with an open heart and is always willing to change direction if need be.
Eric has been a great father to Nathan and Emme, and throughout any bump in the road he has marched right up to it and kept moving forward. He is everything I ever wanted and more.

Thank you for holding my hand.

The rare moments when I take the time to clear my thoughts tears start rolling down. I think of Emme all day, every day, just like I think of Nathan all day, every day, except I don’t have her with me. Most days I function just perfectly with my alone time coming either early in the morning or at night, where I retrieve and let it all out. But when I clear my thoughts, the sorrow is overwhelming. My loss is so great that I can only withstand it on a daily basis by staying in its periphery. When I stare sorrow in its face, my knees weaken.

But it is on those days when I pull from within me the strength that I never knew I had. A couple days ago, it would have been Emme’s two month birthday. Instead of celebrating and waking up exhausted from lack of sleep, I woke up exhausted from crying and hurrying up to package Emme’s milk. On her birthday I shipped 500 ounces of milk. As I carefully packaged each bag of milk, I felt weak to my knees and overwhelmed with sadness but I smiled through it, imagining my little baby with her Father God.

A week after Emme passed, I laid down with Nathan to put him down for a nap. In doing so, I fell asleep cuddled next to him and went to heaven. Emme stood in front of me, I could feel her she was so close. I could only see her halo, as God stood next to her, and his light overwhelmed my eyes. She had hair like Nathan’s but it was wavy, like her grandmothers. She wore the most beautiful dress and shoes, and her joy was so overwhelming. I reached out with all my might trying to embrace her one last time, so much so my heart was saddened as tears rolled down at my failed efforts. It was then my Father God spoke to me and said “She is with me now.” I woke up with the biggest smile and tears of joy.

There was never any doubt in my heart that Emme rejoiced with God but it was so gracious of him to confirm it. He allowed me to see her joy, her beauty and perfection. So whenever I become overwhelmed, I picture God embracing my baby. Loving her, dancing with her, and making her the happiest baby.

A song was recently written by Amanda Cook to baby Luca Gold, who went to heaven 40 minutes after her birth. I had the blessing of listening to it this morning, and it was the most beautiful song I have heard. I would love to share the lyrics of the song and if you would like to listen to it sung by Amanda click Goldie. The song speaks for itself.

come from my nightly routine. The truth is I love scrolling through the pictures of my warrior princess every night before I go to bed. I only have a handful of them so it doesn’t take me long to scroll through them, but each one takes me to the scene in which it was taken, so I hardly ever get through more than a couple before I withdraw to my cave with God.

                                               

Last night I couldn’t sleep thinking about Emme. I tossed and turned all night imagining her in my arms.

This morning as I sat in church, tears couldn’t stop streaming down. I felt a mixture of emotions. I tried to focus on the sweet moments we shared, running through them over and over. I could feel my smile take over my face and then tears would follow, knowing my arms were empty.

I held on tight to God, and cried to him to strengthen me and inundate me with love. You see, he is just as sad as I am, He wanted me to have her too. 

My heart is filled with sorrow. But I am hopeful. I know I can’t see the purpose, but I will. I know the pain I feel is devastating, but it will feel better.  Emme, my sweet baby girl, gave me joy and continues to do so. 

So when I wake and can’t seem to find light, I think of Emme and her joy brings me back. I hear “You can do it Mommy, You can do it!”

                                                       

   

I was recently asked this question and I believe with my whole heart that this person honestly meant well. They simply did not understand what the loss of a daughter can do to a mother’s heart. They didn’t understand loss. The question, however, brought up a very important topic, death.

Most people, I have discovered, are very uncomfortable dealing with death. Most react a couple ways: They try to avoid you all together, keeping conversations to a quick hi and bye, avoiding eye contact throughout the entire interaction. Then there are those that will talk to you and say nothing about your loss. Others will ask you every question they can think of and then give you their advice as to how you can get “better”. My favorite are the ones that simply inundate me with love, even if we were just acquaintances prior to Emme’s passing. Obviously there are plenty of other reactions but in my experience most people fall into these four.

Everyone just wants to make you feel better so they say anything they think will. But I find that honesty is the best way to approach a grieving parent. There are no words and simply saying so is more than most of us expect. A smile, a hug, a shoulder to cry on…all are better than words.