Angel on Earth, Angel in Heaven.

One year. How has this year passed? It passed slow and fast all at the same time. The painful moments lasted forever, the joy-filled moments came and went TOO quick.

Almost one year ago, I labored & delivered our twins. Into this world, I delivered one sleeping babe and one crying babe. Elijah was born first. To hear his screams, that was straight music to my ears. When I heard him cry and scream, I praised God. Those cries were the soundtrack of my heart. Then Amiah was born. I knew she wouldn't scream. I was told I should just let her be buried. I was told I probably would not want to see her, as her heart had stopped beating 4 weeks prior. I was told she maybe would not look like a typical baby. But, do you know what I saw when I held her? I saw beauty. The beauty I saw was unheard of, I do not think I will ever see that type of beauty in my lifetime again. Amiah Mae, you were breathtaking.

This year has been hard. Child loss strains every single relationship you have. My marriage was strained, my relationship with my son was strained, my family and friendship relationships were strained. Because that is what loss does. Satan is the owner of loss. He wants to strip it all away. He wants you to succumb to loss. But lets not let him.

The dark will not have my marriage. Even before children, or the discussion of children, Dion was the prayer I prayed for. So no, Satan, you cannot have this. My marriage was destined by God before it all. I wish that God would have told me about you when I was just a kid. I remember praying for my future husband, and now that you are my husband, it just all makes sense. I wish I would have met you sooner.

The loss of my daughter will not steal my joy. Amiah, I love to speak your name. I love to tell others about you. That curly hair you had, those long fingers, those beautiful feet, and those kissable lips. You are my daughter, you are your daddy's girl, and you are Elijah's sister, and you HAVE CHANGED THIS WORLD.

There will never be a day that passes that I don't think of you. And to some, I may sound like a broken record, one that cannot move on, but I can't. You were supposed to be here. We were supposed to watch you and Elijah grow up together. But, God had different plans. And maybe we won't understand those plans until we get to the other side.

All that I do know, is that I cannot wait to hold you again, sweet princess.

To The Mama of a Stillborn Baby

Dear Mama who didn't get to take her baby home from the hospital, 

Every morning when you get up, I know the first thing that crosses your mind is the baby you didn't bring home from the hospital with you. I know you wonder quite often if there was something you could have done to keep your baby alive. I know the guilt you feel towards your body for failing to sustain your baby's life. 

I know the heartbreak, confusion & hurt it has caused in your marriage. I know you get angry with your husband because he isn't grieving the same way as you. I know you sometimes think your husband has forgotten about the baby you both lost. 

I know the bittersweet feeling of watching your other children grow. I know you guiltily look at them wondering why they were able to make it to this world but your other baby did not. I know that your other children will never fill the void in your heart for the baby that never came home. 

I know how hard it is to get up every day and go to work, when you'd much rather stay in bed. I know that most people have moved on and rarely ask you about your lost baby, but your pain is still just as fresh as they day you found out your baby was no longer living. 

I know the sheer joy it brings to you when someone says your baby's name. I know the way your face lights up when you describe your baby's cute little toes and they way they looked like their daddy.  

I also know that you are so justified in every single feeling you feel. And here is what I have learned:

You couldn't have done a thing. Passing up that caffeine beverage, exercising more, or drinking a gallon of water a day would not have changed what happened. You cannot blame yourself for your stillborn baby, it simply was not your fault.

Your husband cares. My gosh, he cares. But men are wired so, so different than us. I have learned this the hard way many times. Know that your husband misses your baby just as much as you do, he will always show it in different ways. And that's okay. Don't let the difference in grieving come between you. That's the last thing you need.

Your other children won't, can't and will never replace your lost baby. I know the pain of statements people make, such as, "well at least you have another child." Nope, NO! I know I have my other child, but he does not take the place of my daughter. Nor is it his job to.

Moving on is so hard. You feel stuck, like the world around you started moving again, but you didn't. And I can't tell you how long this will last because I'm still here. Some days I move, I grow, and I can sit back and say, "today was a good day." Some days, I can't muster a smile for someone who complains about multiple children being so hard, because I just wish my other child was here so I could complain about it being hard. (And that's another subject- try not to become jaded. Clearly I am still working on that one.)

TALK, SCREAM, and SING about your lost baby to whomever will listen. This is therapy. It is music to my ears when someone wants to know what my stillborn daughter looked like, if she had hair, if she looked like her mama or her daddy. And tell your other children about their lost sibling. My son is 7 months old and I talk to him about his twin all the time. She will forever be apart of our family. 

So, to you- mama of a stillborn baby. I see you. I get it. 

Amiah's twin brother- Elijah Lee, with her hand molds

My sweet stillborn daughter- Amiah Mae

Both photos: Sara Corman Photography

Give me your ideas!

I have been thinking over the past couple weeks that I want to do something this summer for Amiah. I want to have a remembrance day, or an "Amiah's Day", to celebrate her and remember her. I want to donate the money raised on her day to two different organizations that saw us through the hardest time in our life.

The first one being the bereavement center at Central Baptist. That hospital, their staff, and the bereavement center director, Debbie, were so good and so amazing to us.

The second one being Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep. We have some incredible photos of Amiah that we will cherish forever that we did not have to pay for at all. NILMDTS offers photography services to those who have lost babies at no cost. Sara Corman did Amiah's photos and I will cherish those forever.

So what can we do on Amiah's day? What is an event that people would come to and have fun at to raise money? I want it to be a day of celebration, not sadness. I want to remember Amiah and honor her in a positive way. Because our little girl left a huge footprint on so many people's hearts.

Dealing With It.

It has almost been 5 months since I was told my daughter's heart stopped beating. Almost a half of a year since she left me. To be honest, I haven't really dealt with it yet.

I start to deal with it and grieve her, but then I fall into the motherly duties of her brother and the responsibilities of life. But grief reminds me, again and again that I can't go on without doing this. Grief is often like that. Grief is always hiding in the shadows, waiting for me to pick it back up again. Grief is waiting for me to deal with it. Then each time I have to restart the whole process my soul needs to go through.

I only allow myself to get so far. I think I am afraid to go there. I am afraid if I go there I won't be the mother Elijah needs me to be. Or I won't be the wife Dion needs me to be. Or I physically will not be able to get myself to work. If I go there, can I even come back from that?

So here I am, I live in this world where I know Amiah is gone, but I have not allowed myself to let her go and grieve her. I live in this world where I keep myself so busy with her brother that I don't allow myself to feel the deep pain that I know my soul feels. I live in this world where I have to keep it together, because "this stuff just happens" and life still goes on.

I am afraid to let go of her completely because I do not see myself coming back from that. I don't know that I want to know that version of myself.

People typically ask me if I am angry, if I am angry at God or at our circumstances. To tell you the truth, I am not angry at all. I am just consumed by a deep sadness that I can't explain, that I never want anyone else to have to experience. Elijah brings me a deep, deep joy that I can't express, but the loss of Amiah brings me a deep, deep sadness that I cannot express. I feel trapped between two worlds. A world of joy and laughter and smiles with my son and a world of sadness and grief and sorrow with my daughter.

I imagine this is how God felt when Jesus died on the cross. His One and Only son was dying on the cross, but His people, His sons and daughters, would be reunited with Him.

Faith and loss are hard. Am I mad at God? Do I question Him? Absolutely. But do I understand we live in a fallen world and life just sucks mostly until we get to Heaven? Absolutely. 

I know the emptiness and loss I feel for our daughter will never go away. I know the joy I feel for Elijah cannot take away the emptiness. I just pray that I will allow myself to deal with this loss, doing it in baby steps if I have to.

“When her pain is fresh and new, let her have it. Don't try to take it away. Forgive yourself for not having that power. Grief and pain are like joy and peace; they are not things we should try to snatch from each other. They're sacred. they are part of each person's journey. All we can do is offer relief from this fear: I am all alone. That's the one fear you can alleviate.” GDM

Every. Single. Day.

I never knew you could really think about someone every single day after they were gone. Before Amiah, death has never really hit close to home for me. So when I would hear people say that they still think about a lost love one every single day I didn't really know that feeling. But I do now.

I think about Amiah every day. I think about how her personality would have been. I think about the way her and Elijah would have interacted. I think about how hard it would be to take them both anywhere. I think about how I would do anything to get her back. I think about how I would have rather her and Elijah both be here with their daddy and wonder why God didn't take me instead. So when I say I think about Amiah every day, I think about her every single day.

As time goes on, I am constantly seeking the good in Amiah not being here. Because I serve a God who takes every bad thing and can use it for His glory, I am constantly searching for a way that the tragic, confusing, devastating loss of my daughter can be used for His kingdom. It's hard. It's hard to say to God- yes, I want to see the good in this. Because my human instinct tells me there is no good. What kind of good God would take my daughter? What kind of good God would take an innocent life from a mommy and daddy who wanted her so badly? But that is the enemy talking to me. I know God did not take my daughter. I know we live in a fallen world. But I do know that God can use our situation to bring glory to Him. And what better way to honor the short life of my daughter than to shine light on His kingdom?

So I will search, and search and search for the silver lining in the hardest situation of my entire life. I will think of my daughter every single day. I will never forget her. I will grieve with mothers who have lost a child. And any time the devil rears his ugly head and tries to make me believe that God took my baby. I will choose Jesus. I will choose to believe that my daughter's short lived time in my womb has a purpose. And I will hold onto that hope until I get to hold my baby in my arms when I get there.

So here is to you, Amiah Mae. You are loved, you are remembered, and you will never be forgotten.

Love,
Mommy, Daddy and Elijah.

Mama of an Angel Twin.

Almost two months ago to the day we found out that our little girl's heart had stopped beating. That will forever be the worst day of my life. Almost a month ago, I delivered my two sweet babies, Amiah and Elijah. That was the most bittersweet day of my life. I used to use that term a lot, but now I truly know the meaning and feeling of bittersweet. I experienced so much joy that day and so much sorrow.

I remember our nurse, Iniko, telling me that I was at a 10 and she would go get the doctor so I could deliver the twins. I instantly broke down crying, because I knew that meant I would be saying bye to our little girl. She wouldn't be with me anymore. I wasn't ready for that.

The few weeks following the twins' delivery, was such a haze. We were back and forth between the NICU to see Elijah. We were planning and preparing for Amiah's funeral service. And I was recovering from delivery. I don't think I allowed myself to feel anything in those weeks because I was so focused on getting Elijah to where he needed to be so he could come home.

So Elijah came home and we settled into our routine and adjusting to life with a newborn. As the days went on, we were finally able to be home as a family, enjoying our son. Then my grief for Amiah hit me like a ton of bricks. Infant loss is such a terrible thing that no mother deserves ever. Infant loss of a twin is a unique pain. As I get to know Elijah more and watching him and his personality it hurts my heart for Amiah. When Elijah does something knew or we discover he likes something over another, my head wonders to how Amiah would have been. Elijah loves to be close to mommy or daddy's chest. What would Amiah like? It's like the more Elijah grows, the more my heart hurts and longs for my daughter.

I don't think I will ever in this lifetime understand why God wouldn't let us keep Amiah. And I don't think I'll ever see a day where my heart doesn't ache for her.

Untitled

One month ago Dion & I were given the worst news we have both ever received in our lives. Our daughter's heart stopped beating.

On Monday, June 13th, I had some leaking which can mean your water broke. I came into the hospital after calling my doctor. The nurse said go ahead and go to Labor & Delivery since the office was almost closed for the day. I called Dion and told him I was going to the hospital but not to worry and I would just drive myself because I was sure it was nothing and that I was overreacting. So Dion played another hole of golf and met me at the hospital.

It was confirmed that my water did break, so we just assumed I'd be in the hospital until I delivered the twins since you can stay pregnant for a little while even after your water breaks as long as you're being monitored. So they strapped me to the heart monitors to monitor Elijah's and Amiah's hearts. They found both heart beats, or so we thought.

About 2 hours later, they needed to give me magnesium to stop the contractions and steroids to mature their lungs in case they came early. When they went to adjust the heart monitors they could not find Amiah's heartbeat. Apparently they were picking up my heartbeat when they initially thought they had Amiah's, and assumed it was her's because mine was so elevated. The doctor brought in an ultrasound machine and was checking to see Amiah's heartbeat. We'd had over 10 ultrasounds at this point, so I knew what a beating heart looks like on a screen. I didn't see her heart moving. The doctor said let me get the better ultrasound machine. I didn't need him to say it, I knew it. I knew she was gone. He brought the other machine in and looked at the screen for a while. He then asked our family to leave the room. My parents and Dion's mom were in the room. I knew why they had to leave, he had to tell us our daughter was dead. He said I'm so sorry you all, her heart is not beating.

After Dion and I had a moment together, he went and told our parents. Dion asked them to go home so that him and I could just be together that night. That was the longest night of my life. I didn't sleep. I was in shock. I felt like a bad mom. I couldn't keep her safe in what is supposed to be the safest place for her. I felt disconnected from my son, because why did he get to live and she didn't?

The next day, we had another ultrasound with the high risk doctor. He told us based on her size, her heart had probably stopped at least a week ago. I felt like he punched me in the gut. Worst mom ever, how did I not know that my daughter wasn't alive for a whole week? How did I not know something was wrong? What if I would have known? Could they have done something to save her?

The days following the news of her death are such a blur. Partly because I was on so much medicine, partly because I did not want to believe this was happening. I still haven't let myself fully grieve her death because it's like I'm in limbo. I know she isn't alive, but she's still inside of me physically. I'm sure the weight of her death will hit me like a ton of bricks the moment I see her and she isn't breathing. Losing a child comes with so much grief, you're not just grieving the loss of your baby, you grieve the loss of a toddler, of a kid, of a teenager, of an adult. All the phases of life that I won't get to have with her.

The days ahead are going to be harder than I can imagine.