Grandpa Dennis Turns 60!!

There is a man in my life that I look up to more than any other.  He has been there for me through everything.  He raised me to be the woman I am today.  He is loving, tender, funny, intelligent, courageous, and dedicated.

He is my father.

My dad, Dennis, turned 60 this year.  He didn't want any big thing made out of his day so there was no grand party or big trip.

We did, however, drive down to my parent's house for the weekend, to show him just how much we love and appreciate the fact that he is here to celebrate another year of life.

The past nearly 6 months have been the hardest I have ever known, but with the support of my dad and my mom, Steven and I are making it through.  Happy Birthday, Dad!!  And thank you for everything.

Time is a Crazy Thing

Dear Brynna,

Good morning, sweet girl.  I miss you.  I love you and I miss you.  So very much.

The other day, I had a realization.  All the clothes that are hanging up in your closet and filling the drawers in your beautiful room, would be too small for you now.  No longer would you be fitting into the 0-3 month sleepers, dresses and leggings.  You, my darling, are nearly 6 months old!!  If you had followed in the footsteps of your wonderful brothers, you would also be out of the 3-6 month clothes and into the 6-9 month stuff.

It was a funny realization to have, because in so many regards, time has completely stopped for your Daddy and I.  Since the day you died and our hearts broke, time (for us) has really been a strange thing.

Somehow, since that time, we have experienced Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s, Valentine’s Day, my birthday, spring break and Easter.  I’d be lying if I said I really, truly experienced, celebrated, or enjoyed any of them.  There were moments of happiness in some of them, but none of them were what they used to be.  Because no matter how many people are there, or how much great food is prepared, you are still missing.   And our hearts ache for you.

So many times, I still feel stuck in October.  I wish it were still October 25^th.  I remember that day so well.  I had gone to the doctor for a routine “you’re overdue so we have to watch you closely” appointment.  I was not worried that you were past your due date.  All the boys had been too, and I was confident you would come when you were ready.  The exam that day came back normal, as did the non stress test.  You were doing great inside of my tummy.  On the ultrasound you looked as beautiful as ever, just camping out in there, waiting to make your grand entrance.  And I was okay waiting for you.

The nurse practitioner had concerns though.  They said the amniotic fluid seemed too low, and although your umbilical cord was organized neatly in front of your tummy, they said there was an increased risk for cord compression.  As a result they wanted to induce me that day.

I was so heartbroken.  I did not want to be induced.  I was induced with Colton and Jackson, and those labors were very long and painful.  Aidan was overdue too, but he came on his own and much, much faster.  I wanted so badly to give you the opportunity to come on your own too.  I was okay waiting.  I loved being pregnant with you.  I loved feeling you inside my tummy moving around.  Oh, how I miss feeling you move around.  Now all I have to remind me that you were there at all is this horrible scar.

I remember calling your Dad to tell him that we would be induced that day.  I remember telling him I was scared and I did not want it to happen this way.  I called your Grandparents too.  After I got over my initial fear, I realized, either way, we were going to get to meet you, and I began to get really excited.

I headed home from the OB’s office to get the stuff we would need in the hospital.  I called some friends and got it figured out who would be meeting your brothers when they got off the bus that day after school. 

Then I went around the house, straightening things up for when we would be coming home with you a few days later.  I waited for your Dad to get there so we could head to the hospital together.  I went into your room and sat down on the bed and thought about you.  I was so excited to meet you.  I was so excited to bring you home and show you what we created for you.  A beautiful purple, green, cream and black nursery.  Perfectly planned and laid out for our special little girl.  The last thing I did before we left was turn on the wipe warmer so that it would be all ready for you when we came home.  Then, off we went, your Daddy and I, to the hospital to meet you.

That is when we unknowingly started down the path that was going to change our life in ways we could have never imagined.

I wish it were still October 25^th.  I wish I could still feel you moving inside of me.  I wish you could still hear your Daddy’s voice talking to you through my belly.  I wish I could see my belly move over and over again while you had the hiccups.  I wish it were still October 25^th.  Oh, how I wish it were still October 25^th.

But it’s not.

It somehow is nearly 6 months later.  It is somehow April 13^th.

Time is a crazy, messed up thing.  Where has it gone?  Where has nearly 6 months gone?  Where have I been?  Will I ever see the me that I knew for 32 years?  Or is she gone too?

We miss you, Brynna.  I miss you as much today as I did on November 1^st when you went to heaven.  More, probably.  Because in the nearly 6 months that have passed, the shock of losing you has dulled a bit, and that shock has been replaced by the pain of how permanent this situation is.  That pain is indescribable.  That pain is something no mother or father should have to experience.  It doesn’t make sense that nearly 6 months ago, we lost our beautiful, perfectly healthy, perfectly grown, daughter.  Where has the time gone?

Time is a crazy, messed up thing.

I love you sweet, Brynn.  And Daddy and the boys love you.  We love you so much bigger than the distance between us right now, and we will continue loving you more and more.  You are in every thought, every experience, every day, all the time.

Love,

Momma

This Road is Long.....and so We Walk

Here we are pushing 5 1/2 months since Brynna was born, and although it seems we've been sad for a lifetime, I know the journey ahead of us is destined to be a long, winding one.  Some days are okay (we get through with some semblance of the people we "used" to be).  And, some days are not okay.  On those days, it takes all we can muster to get up out of bed, and go about "getting done" this thing called life.


Three and a half months ago, Steven and I attended our first Tears Meeting in Lakewood.  It was a cold, windy, rainy night, and I had been at one of my absolute lowest points earlier that day.  While sitting on my couch sobbing, I remembered having heard about the Tears Foundation when we were discharged, empty armed from the hospital, after Brynna died.  All I remember hearing was that they were a group that helped offset the financial burden of funeral expenses and burial/cremation costs, for parents who have lost babies.  What I did not know until that very stormy Wednesday in January, was that they also have support groups. 


Steven and I, at that point, had participated in two other grief groups for families who have lost children, but that night when we walked into the Tears meeting, something clicked.  For the first time, we were amongst people who really understood our loss.  The loss of a child at any age, under any circumstance, is undeniably tragic.  We felt though, that we needed to meet people "like us".  People that don't really have that many "memories" to cling to.  People who are reminded every week that their baby would be "that much older" and "accomplishing much anticipated milestones" had they only lived longer.


For the first time since Brynna passed away, we were in the presence of people who could 100% meet us right where we were.


We will be attending our fourth meeting this month, and each time I look forward to it.  It is heart wrenching to go and hear of each family's loss, but it is also reassuring to us to know we truly are not alone on this horrible road.  We walk together.

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I want to inform everyone reading this blog, that our family will be participating in the Tears Foundation Annual Rock and Walk on June 16th at Cheney Stadium in Tacoma. We will be walking for a few hours in honor of Brynna, and all the other babies that have passed away far, far too soon.

A great number of you have expressed interest in joining our team to walk with us. The more the merrier! Our whole family, including the boys, will be there, and we welcome any and all that would like to join us in support and remembrance of our sweet daughter/sister. We are so humbled and feel so loved to have such a large support network.

If you have not already registered, you can follow the link below to the Tacoma Rock and Walk registration page and click on the "register" button, then follow the instructions.

http://www.firstgiving.com/tears/2012-washington-rock-walk

Early Bird Registration is open until May 12th for $5 per adult (kids 12 and under are free this year). If you want, those that have already signed up with us are also going to be wearing t-shirts that have "Team Brynna" on the back. The shirts are a $15 donation. The money raised goes to help parents of recently deceased babies, offset the cost of funeral expenses and burial/cremation costs.

I had set a team fundraising goal of $1000.00 and am so excited that our team has currently raised a total of $985.00! Only $15 more and we'll be at goal. I am wondering now, how much we can shoot that initial goal of $1000 out of the water? If you are unable to walk, but would still like to donate to the Tears Foundation through Team Brynna, you can follow this link and do so:

https://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/babybrynna/2012-washington-rock-walk

Thank you so much to those of you who are currently signed up to walk with us. Thank you as well, to those of you who can't walk, but have been generous enough to donate. I hope someday you all know how much your love and support mean to Steven, the boys and myself.

Easter Activities on a Rainy Day With Three Amazing Boys

So the boys are on spring break and we are cooped up in our house because, you guessed it, it is raining outside....

Today I decided since we can't go outside, we'd spend a little time and get our "craft on", and make some Easter decorations together.  I think the project turned out really well, but most importantly it was just nice to have some good quality time spent doing something together with my sweet sons.

So often in the last 5 1/2 months, I have wondered if my sadness over losing their sister is going to ruin them for life.  I have been so afraid that the "fun loving, up for anything, spur of the moment mom" they have grown up with, was going to be permanently replaced by the "teary eyed, pajama wearing, turning in circles mom" that this grief has, at times, caused me to become.

I have worried that missing Brynna and walking our road of grief was monopolizing my time and sucking away my energy to love my living children in the way they are so used to being loved.  I have nightmares that the boys will remember this time in their life as "the year mom went crazy and never came back".

What I am realizing instead, however, is that somehow, by a Grace much larger than myself, Colton, Aidan and Jackson have become MORE loving, compassionate, emotionally connected boys.  By being honest with them about our heartache, and by not being afraid to cry in front of them, they have been witness to what it means to love somebody so much that it hurts.  And they are comfortable with it.  AMAZING!

It warms my heart to hear from their teachers that they mention their sweet sister in class.  It brings me to my knees that they confide in both Steven and I on a regular basis, that they see and talk to Brynna in their dreams, and that she tells them to "tell Momma and Daddy how much I love them."  Colton told me last week that Brynna came to him again in his sleep, but this time she looked like a "little girl" and had "dark brown hair, just like you Mom.  And she had a sweet voice and brown eyes.  And she said she is having fun in heaven."

I am moved beyond words when all three of them, Cole, Aidan and Jackson, come to me separately and express their pain and broken heart in having lost their sister before they had the opportunity to teach her all the things they wanted oh so badly to teach her.

On a lighter note, one day Jack said to me, "Mom, I wish Brynna were still alive because I would have taught her all kinds of things.....like how to walk..... and how to talk..... and how to milk a cow....."

I laughed out loud at this and asked, "Jack, do you know how to milk a cow?" to which he replied, "uhhhh, I think you just squeeze the pink stuff 'til you get the white stuff..."

See what you're missing, Brynn? You have some amazingly versatile and very knowledgeable brothers!


So, today, after working together to make our Easter garland, I was reminded again, that we are in this as a family.  Together we will make our way through (not over) this, and together we will have bigger, more loving hearts as a result of our darling Brynna Elizabeth.

Happy Easter, baby girl!  We are learning so much.

Bringing It to the Public One Post at a Time

So today I decided to take the writing I have been doing since Brynna was born in October and passed away in November, and cut and paste into a blog.

I have had this blog for quite some time but it was previously called "Five Finnegans".  I of course needed to change the name, now that we have added an angel baby to our family.  I have not blogged in quite some time, but I am back.

Throughout the past 5 months, I have read many other blogs of bereaved parents and their words have offered me comfort at times when I feel nobody in this world understands what we as a family are going through.  We are not alone.  I see that now, and my hope is that maybe someday, someone will happen across my blog and get the same sense of support that I was granted on our journey down this grief road.  Please, if those of you reading this know somebody who is going through the grief of losing a child, let them know they are not alone, and welcome them to read along as well.

I have gone back and put my journal entries/writings in chronological order beginning in October 2011 and have progressed forward in time to today.

My goal is to continue to write what is on my heart.  Everything from the pain of losing Brynna and surviving to tell about it, to the daily adventures and joys the boys take us on, will be chronicled here.  For this is our life and it is not by any means easy, but it is OUR life and we are LIVING, and for that we are thankful.

A Red String and Three Little Birds

4/1/12        10:06 a.m

Dear Brynna,

It’s been 5 months since you passed away and Daddy and the boys and I miss you just as much today as the day you went to heaven.

I think you should know what an amazing little girl you are.  Your short life has touched so very many peoples’ hearts.  I am hoping they have realized just how special and sacred it is to have children, and have taken the knowledge that life is not guaranteed for any amount of time, and gone home to be better, more loving parents to their own kids.

I love you, baby girl.  Just as if you were here with us today.  We all think about you and miss you every single day.  Many times a day.

What I am coming to realize though, is that you are thinking of us too.  You are still there, I know you are.  I hear you when your windchime blows in the wind.  I see the hope you are trying to send to my heart when the sun breaks through the clouds and rain.

I have been struggling with my faith and where I stand with God for a while now, but I see that you are there with Him, and you are safe.  I feel the mercy, I hear the hope, I see the Love.

The other day I was watching the show “Touch” for the first time, on what I thought was just “a whim”.  I know now though, that you guys had “bigger” plans for me.  I heard and saw the messages. 

The main character, the little boy, was talking at the beginning of the show about how everyone is born with an invisible red string tied to their ankle.  That string is connected to other strings that are then connected to the ankles of all the people they are destined to touch, in some form or fashion, in their lifetime.  The strings can be bent and stretched, but never broken.  And even though we are not guaranteed any certain number of days here on this earth, we cannot escape the fact that we are destined to touch those people. 

The boy went on to say he was born on October 26^th (your birthday!) and it is his job to help people touch the ones they are destined to touch.  Then immediately the scene cut to a girl in a club singing, “Three Little Birds” by Bob Marley. 

I listen to that song all the time when I am thinking of you.  In fact, later that morning when I went to the gym and set my ipod to shuffle, out of 5,437 possible songs, Three Little Birds came on again.  But I know you know that. 

I also have come to realize that your strings are more numerous than we can count.  The extent to which you have touched people, and continue to do so, is amazing.  I also wonder if you are that little boy?  On a mission to make sure that the people that are supposed to affect each other, have a chance to do so.  I thank you for giving me the chance to Love you as I do, because it is from that Love that I have the strength to talk to and reach out to other people in similar situations.  It is through that Love that I am able to honor the people that my strings are attached to, and sum up the courage to “touch” them.

I see you, Brynna.  I hear you.  I am listening.  I love you.

Love,

Momma

P.S. Please tell Him “thank you for His mercy and Love”.  I am listening to Him too.

5 Months Out

How in the world did we get here?  5 months since Brynna passed away.  5 months since we were supposed to come home with our sweet baby girl, but instead came home with empty arms.  How could we have gotten here? 

After Steven and I returned from our cruise with Matt and Rita in the middle of March, I had about a 9 day stretch of being “on the closet floor” sad.  I couldn’t put any cohesive thoughts together, and had zero motivation for anything.  My heart was breaking all over again with how permanent this situation is.  I was hurting so much.

Then one day, I don’t know how else to put it, but I woke up one morning and I felt the waters had receded just enough that I could breathe once more.  I am not naïve to think that another long wave is not coming.  I know it is.  I know it will come again when I am not expecting it, and when I am least ready.  And I will be taken again, under the dark waters of heartbreak and despair.  I will cry and I will moan (probably on my closet floor), and I will plead for mercy, as I try to “come to grips” with the loss of our daughter.

But what I know now, is that I will again rise.  I will be granted another moment’s relief, and a chance to catch my breath.  Although this ocean of grief is our new life, and at times it seems there is no land in site, no respite; I will not drown.  We will not drown.  We will not succumb to the sadness forever. Steven and the boys and I will not drown in our heartache.  Instead, we will continue to do what we have been doing for the past 5 months.  We will cling to one another, our own makeshift life raft and we will roll with the waves.

The pain of surviving the death of your child is so deep and so indescribable that I have given up trying to put words to it.  There is a saying that I found a while back that states just that:

“A child that loses a parent is an orphan.

 A husband that loses his wife is a widower.

 A wife who loses her husband is a widow.

 However, there is no word for a parent that loses a child.

 For there is no word to describe such pain.”

However, I have a lifeline to help me not “out of” but “through” my pain.  My amazing husband, and my three compassionate boys are my relief.  They are my reality check.  They are my reasons for living. 

We will love Brynna until the end of time (and then one more day after that), and we will do it together.