A Plea for Help

September 9, 2013                                                                          8:30 a.m

(**posted on Facebook**)

I decided a while back that I was going to pull away from Facebook to a certain degree.  Although our road has continued to wind around endlessly, and the bumps continue to trip us up when we least expect it, we are continuing as a family to heal after Brynna’s death.  I have discovered, over and over again, that words are hard to find to sufficiently explain this process, and I didn’t want to make people uncomfortable with the seemingly endless nature of our grief.

Today, however, I come to you all with a different (but connected) purpose.

Just about 4 months after Brynn died, I began doing some investigating into the world of adoption.  Truth be told, Steven and I had discussed adoption as an option for building our family prior to my pregnancy with Brynna, but then we got pregnant and it was a moot point for a while.  Then, after things went the way they did, and we were left without any further biological options, I began researching again.

What we discovered about ourselves is that we are incredibly drawn to the idea of growing our family through the adoption of a newborn baby girl or a young sibling group.  We researched domestic vs. international adoption, and given that we desire a very young child, we found that an adoption inside the U.S. would be most promising for us.

We attended webinars, and seminars.  We read books and spoke with other adoptive families.  We did our due diligence, for sure. 

We were pre-approved over a year ago, through an adoption center out of CA and all that needed to be done to start the process would be to send them a $17,000 check upfront, which would grant us a 2 year contract for their services in helping to match us with a birth mother.  We also needed to pay for a social worker to complete our home study.  Once matched, we would have to cover travel expenses to wherever the birth mom lived, as well as lawyer fees to cover the legal side of adoption.  When it was all said and done, we were looking to spend between $25,000 and $35,000.

In December, however (as many of you know), we made an offer on a house on nearly 5 acres of property.  The house was listed as a short sale and we knew that it may “take a while” for the sellers’ banks to reach an agreement on the deal, so we put adoption on hold figuring there was no point in paying a social worker to have our home study done, if we would just be moving before it was final.

Then, last June, an opportunity dropped, seemingly, out of the sky and we were told about a young girl who lived in WA state, and was in a situation of not really knowing how she would proceed with her pregnancy.  She heard our story and was very interested in speaking with us about adopting the baby girl she was due to give birth to, in mid-September.

Although the house situation had still not figured itself out, we knew that to be able to legally adopt any baby, let alone this young birth mom’s child, we would need a completed home study.  We set in motion to find a social worker, requested some of our closest friends and family complete letters of recommendation, paid for FBI fingerprinting and background checks, completed a relatively lengthy autobiography about how/why we found ourselves on the adoption road, and had multiple home visits all to complete our home study.  We reasoned that if the house worked out, and we ended up moving, we would just pay to append the document.

For three months we have tried to remain cautiously optimistic about the idea that we might be bringing a baby home mid to late September.  We texted, spoke on the phone, and even met the teenage birth mom, and her mother, in person.  All signs were pointing to this being a “drop in our laps, much more affordable, miraculous, this kind of thing only happens in the movies,” adoption.  We chose not to tell many people or post about any of it, in attempt to respect her privacy, and her process.

Simultaneously, several weeks back, we had finally received word (9 months after making the initial offer) that the seller’s banks were in agreement on a deal for the house, and it was going to be ours.  We were ecstatic!  After calling the agent and our mortgage lender to inquire how likely this was to actually go through, we were given the go-ahead to tell the boys we’d be moving.  We took the boys to the property and captured on video, the excitement in their faces when we told them the house was ours. 

It was a perfect moment.

Then, two days later the real estate agent called to say the banks were in disagreement again, and it “didn’t look good”.  As it stands now, the banks have decided they will not come to a resolution and have refused settlement of the short sale.  The house is going into foreclosure and will go up for auction (most likely “cash only”) this coming Friday.  When we got the word, we were devastated.

But we thought, “Well at least we’re still moving in the direction of bringing a baby home, and that is something wonderful to look forward to.”

Yesterday, however, we received a text from our birth mom stating she has decided against adoption, and is choosing to parent her baby.  While we understand what a hard choice this is for this young mother, and we in no way fault her for choosing to parent, our hearts still broke.

Yesterday, we were numb.  Then, we were sad.  Then, we were confused.  Then, we were feeling defeated and hopeless.

Then, we slept.

Now, we are coming to you all. 

Facebook is a powerful and wide-reaching social media tool, and Steven and I know there is a birth mother out there that is meant to be connected with our family.  We are in love with the idea of an open adoption, and we know the more people there are to love a child, the better.

We know our hearts are still led to adoption, and we are asking for your help.

To all of our friends and family, please keep us in your hearts and prayers and thoughts.  Please send hope our way that one day, our family will grow again through the amazing thing called adoption. 

And PLEASE, PLEASE keep your eyes peeled and ears open for any birth mother that may be looking for a family for her sweet baby girl.  Ask your pastors, priests, neighbors, relatives, friends, and teenagers if they know of anyone who is struggling to find a forever home for their child(ren).

We are happy to talk about our journey and will answer any questions anybody may have. 

I know this is a long entry about a very serious topic, but I’ve heard of it working for other people, and at this point I know we have absolutely nothing to lose. 

Thank you.  All of you.  We love you.

Just a Minute

August 15, 2013                                                                              11:33 a.m

Dear Brynna,

I feel like I’m losing you.  Like the further that time marches, the more distance there is between my heart and your memory.  And that breaks me all over again.

There is a very distinct part of me that misses the all-encompassing grief.  That was the time I was consumed by you.  Now, as moments, hours, days, and months pass by, life demands my participation.  It’s twisted, right? Longing for the dark hours, alone, crying, curled up in the fetal position in my bed…

But it was in those darkest, saddest moments, that I got to focus just on you.  Focus just on missing you, needing you, loving you.  Life wasn’t demanding my participation in those moments.  I wasn’t expected at work.  There were people here to care for your brothers, and tend to the house.  Daddy was right by my side, and we were holding each other, rocking each other in our tiny boat in our vast ocean of grief, as we held tight to your precious memory.

And now, as always, the world continues to spin madly on.  And I am finding myself swept up in its torrential wind.  There are so many times I feel out of breath because I don’t think I can keep up with all of it when my heart is broken this way.  There is so much that just doesn’t matter like it used to.  The only thing that matters to me now is being the best mom I can be to you and your brothers, and a loving life partner to your Daddy.

But, I have to go to work, and I have to go through the motions about so many things that, in the end, won’t really matter.  Not in the way that love and relationships do anyway…

I listen to the song, “Beam Me Up,” by Pink a lot.

“There’s a whole ‘nother conversation going on

In a parallel universe.

Where nothing breaks and nothing hurts.

There’s a waltz playing frozen in time

Blades of grass on tiny bare feet

I look at you and you’re lookin’ at me.

Could you beam me up,

Give me a minute, I don’t know what I’d say in it

I’d probably just stare, happy just to be there, holding your face

Beam me up,

Let me be lighter, I’m tired of being a fighter,

I think a minute’s enough,

Just beam me up.”

I need another minute. 

I need another minute to focus on just you, my sweet, sweet girl.  I am so, so tired of “being a fighter” and carrying on in this crazy life.  It’s so hard being a parent to children both here on earth, and also where you are.  It’s too long to be without you.  I can’t go the rest of my life without seeing you, without knowing you, without holding you. 

It’s too long and it’s too hard to know I have to face all my tomorrows without you.

I need to see you.  Your face.  Your sweet fingers and toes.

I just miss you so much and I want so badly for you to be here with us.  With Daddy and me and the boys.  Our Finnegan Family of 6, here on earth together.

I know I can’t have you back in the way that I want, but please stay with me in the ways that you can.  Keep talking to me, keep showing me signs and pointing out to me that we are connected, even if there are so many times I seem to forget.  I am a work in progress, Brynna.  I am doing my best to make sense of what seems to be a very non-sensical thing; our losing you.  Please be patient with me and continue to hold my hand as I trudge down this road, with a Brynna shaped hole in my heart.

I love you so very much more than the distance between us right now. 

Stay with me.

Love,

Momma 

4th of July Festivities, and All the While Missing You...

July 11, 2013                                             11:40 a.m

Dear Brynna,

I am finding that life is getting busy again.  Or maybe it’s just that I’m getting to a point where I can better handle how busy it’s been all along, picking my head up slightly from the fog we’ve been in.

Jackson just turned six!  We were up at Uncle Trent and Auntie Andrea’s house for the weekend of the 4^th of July, and we ended up having his “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle” party with them on Saturday.  Grandma and Grandpa were there too.  

Jackson had requested homemade macaroni and cheese for dinner and it was delicious!  To me, it always feels like a perfect birthday celebration having good food and being surrounded by those we love.

I made cupcakes to go with the theme and I thought they turned out pretty cute:

The boys had a great time playing with their cousins and running around with Ninja Turtle gear, fighting “bad guys”:

That’s a lot of really tough guys, huh?

A couple days before the birthday party was the 4^th of July, which we all spent at John and Nancy Hinton’s house.  

We started the morning by going to the 4^th of July parade in LaConner.  This was the third time we’ve gone, and it’s the perfect parade because it’s short and they throw TONS of candy at all the kids.  This year, we got to enjoy the parade with Joe and Gina Hinton and their daughter, Hailey (their baby, Harper, was back at her grandma’s taking a nap) and also Jane and Teriann and their daughter, June.  It was especially poignant for me because Joe and Jane are two of the people I grew up going to 4^th of July parades with, and it felt really cool to all be there together with our own children as well.

The rest of the day was filled with wonderful food, including freshly caught crab, beautiful weather, lawn games, fireworks, and some of our most treasured friends and family.

Here’s a picture of me as a little girl on the 4^th, in Sedro Woolley at the Hinton’s house.  It’s Jane, Uncle Trent, Me, Andrew, Joe, and Uncle Conner.  Check out those boots, huh?  Pretty patriotic, right?

And this is what our kids looked like this year, so many years later:

Of course you know how much my heart breaks that you are not in this picture with them…

And in this one with your brothers and cousins…

I miss you.  

I can’t stand the fact that you are not here with us for all of this.  It’s so strange being a parent to the boys here on earth and also to you, in heaven.  My arms still ache to cuddle you and hug you.  What I would have given to dress you up in a red, white and blue dress and watched you toddle around with spunky little piggy tails tied with patriotic ribbon…

I love you.

Always and forever, I love you.

Love, 
Momma

We Walked

July 11, 2013                                                                                     11:00 a.m

Well, we walked. 

Nearly a month ago, already...

Not sure where the time has gone...

On June 15^th, we were joined by friends and family as we walked in honor of our sweet, sweet girl.  All together, Team Brynna raised $6435 which made us the 3^rd top fundraising team.  Steven and I raised $5850 of that total and were very proud to be the number 1 top single fundraising individual.

It was an incredibly emotional day, and it felt extremely supportive to have so many loved ones walking with us. 

Thank you to everyone who donated.  Your generosity will go a long way in ensuring that people just like us get the love and support they need as they begin their “Day 1” after the death of their babies.

And thank you to all of you that walked.  We know it is a hard day to get through, and the fact that you all showed up (some of you traveling long distances to do so) means the absolute world to Steven, the boys and myself.

Tomorrow We Walk

Tomorrow we walk.

Well, every day we walk, one foot in front of the other on this broken, bumpy road they call grief.

But tomorrow, we walk with a specific purpose.  Tomorrow we walk for one reason only. 

Tomorrow we walk for Brynn.

Tomorrow is not about busy schedules and work requirements.  Tomorrow is not about homework needing to be done or reports needing to be signed.  Tomorrow is not about yard work or cleaning house.  It’s not about settling family drama, or mending broken relationships.  Tomorrow is not one more thing that needs to be checked off the “to-do” list before we tackle everything else that “needs doing.”

Tomorrow is about Brynna.

One day.

She only gets one day a year.  One day a year when we can focus on the time she was with us in this mixed up, physical world.

All the other days, all the looming tomorrows, are given to the “everything and everyone else” in this world.

Tomorrow is her day.

Please join us in honoring our sweet girl.  It’s all we’ve got.  It’s all we ask.

Just not sure.

June 5, 2013                                                                                                                                    11:00 a.m.

Dear Brynna,

I am so sad you are not here with us.  I know you are doing wonderful things that are much bigger than I can comprehend right now, but as your mom, I really, really miss you.

I wish I understood more.  I wish I had a way of really knowing that this is going to be okay.  I feel silly even writing that because “okay” seems such a small word.  How could it ever be “okay” to be a parent without a child?  I just wish I were more “zen” and could take more solace in the fact that you are busy working in this universe in a capacity my human mind can’t truly reconcile.

I miss you, Brynn. I really, really would have loved the opportunity to get to know you.  You were a whole person, with a very potentially wonderful, full life, ahead of you, and I would have loved to watch you grow.  I can’t help but feel confused and brokenhearted that a life as precious as yours, ended before it even got started.

I love you.

Do you get my notes?  Do you feel my heart?  Do you know how much your momma loves you?  I sometimes worry that because you are where you are, not limited by a human body or mind, you may not “remember” me.  I worry that you may not “know” me in the way I know you.  I don’t want you to be sad in the way I am sad, and I would never wish for you the longing I feel in my heart, but I’m just afraid that you might not know how much I continue to love you.

I am frustrated because I don’t have the right words.  I feel limited by language.  The way I feel and the way I long for you cannot be summed up on paper, and that is maddening when so much of how I heal is through writing.

It’s just a feeling.  A whole bodied, whole hearted, all-encompassing feeling. 

I miss you.  I just really, really miss you.

Love,

Momma

 

Here's the Thing about Change

Here’s the thing.

Everything we experience in this life changes us.  No matter what it is, good or bad, short term or long term, life changes us.

We are different with each year that goes by.  We learn, we love, we laugh, we lose, we break…and as a result we change.

I would challenge any person out there to tell me they are the same person now as they were before they had their first love.  Whether the relationship lasted and became something deeper, or whether it ended, each person going their separate way, it’s not possible to stay the “same.”

I would challenge any parent out there to tell me they are the same person today as they were the day before each of their children were born.  It’s not possible to stay the “same”.  It’s not possible to “not change”.

Why then, are there people out there that feel it strange that “Steven and I are changed now?”  Why does it confuse others that, “we are not the people we used to be?”  That we’re “not back to normal?”

None of us are.

None of us are the “same people we used to be.”

Life- “an account of the series of events making up a person’s life.” 

By definition, this thing called life is all about change.  It’s all about the “series of events” that happen to us, and how we react to them. 

Although Steven, the boys and I are 18 months out from the day our world stood still, we are still reeling with the effects of change that Brynna’s death has had on our lives.  Every day, every experience, every single thing is different now than it would have been, had she lived.  So, everything about us, and how we perceive life, how we react to others’ joys and heartaches, how we are able to participate in the world around us…is changed.

In the beginning, so many people tried to console us with, “this is your new normal.”  “Things will never be as they used to be, you won’t get over it, you’ll just get through it.”  And yet, here we are a year and a half out, and some of the same people that seemed acutely aware of this irreversible change, now seem frustrated or confused by the fact that “it’s not over yet.”

Parents…please take a moment and think about each and every one of your children, one at a time. 

Think about the day they were born, and the joy you felt.  Think about how you fed them, held them, smelled them, watched them grow.  Think about their smile, their laugh, their cry…their voice.  Think about their handprints on the walls and windows, think about the piles of their clothes in the laundry room, and on the couch waiting to be folded.  Think about sitting together for meals, watching them smile as they talk about their day.  Think about the pride you feel when you watch them do whatever it is that makes them happy.

Now…imagine all of that is gone.  None of it ever happened (or if it did, it is cut short and will no more).  It all should have happened, but it didn’t.  Take it a step further now and imagine you held your child in your arms and watched them as they took their last breaths.  You watched as their color went from pink to purple, and you watched life slip out of their precious body, and felt their skin cool.  Instead of years, you had only moments.  Only moments to try to let your precious child know they are loved and cherished.  All the hopes, dreams…  All the love and support…  All the time and energy you were ready to invest in this, your greatest life’s work…none of it gets to happen because they are gone.

Does having other children make this any easier, one’s presence replacing the loss of the other? Does time passing make it any easier to accept the fact that your child is not with you?  Are you the same?  Will you ever be the same again?  Would you even want to be?  If you were “the same” it would mean you hadn’t experienced this child.  Would you do that? 

Or would you do your best to embrace this change, knowing you are the way you are now, because your precious child touched your heart? 

So often, we as humans, are resistant to change, believing for some reason that “what has been” is better and safer to bet on than “what might be”.  The irony is that we don’t have any control over any of it.  Life will continue to do its crazy thing and change us with each passing day, molding us into versions of ourselves we never saw coming.  That doesn’t mean it’s bad, it’s just different.

I will be without my daughter for the rest of the time I am on this earth.  I am going to be different as a result.  Steven is going to be different as a result.  I find myself getting less and less worked up about the things in life that “have to happen” recognizing that most of it doesn’t really matter.  Instead, I find myself drawn more toward relationships and loving those around me that are comfortable continuing to bear witness to this pain.

Day after day, I do my best to accept this change, these differences, within myself, recognizing I am changed because the love I have for my daughter is more powerful than the fantasy of remaining the “before Brynna died” version of myself.  To have known her, held her, loved her, smelled her, means I am changed, and I am okay with that.

Please be patient and kind to those around you that are currently being molded by life.  Change is scary to watch, but it is also very scary to be thrown into, and having the support and understanding of those around us makes what can seem impossible to handle, possible.