Starting Over

It's hard to admit this to myself, but there are days when I really wish I could start over. I wish I could rewind my life and go back to January 2012. That's when the first domino toppled over: Gabriel's conception. That's when all of this was first put into motion. That's when everything changed far beyond my control, when my life slowly started to fall apart.

I wish I could get a re-do on the last two years of my life. I wish I could have one chance to take back one choice. Because I am constantly wondering what my life would be like now if I had done one thing differently. Could one choice made differently have had the power to change my fate?

This time, two years ago, I remember wanting a baby so badly. I was so anxious to get pregnant. I was naively planning to have three children and I wanted to get started before I turned 30.

Now, I wonder what could have been if I had been more patient. If we had conceived one month later, would that have made all the difference in the world? Would that baby be a happy, healthy 15 month old squirming in my arms while I blog about cloth diapers instead of stillbirth?

I think I will always question what could have been if I had been patient and waited a couple months... if those two months could have spared me the suffering I've endured over the past two years.

It's heartbreaking and frustrating to know that I am exactly where I was then. Two years ago I was sitting here wishing for a baby, scouring the internet for fertility tips, trying with all my being to make my greatest wish come true. It's been two years and no progress has been made on the baby front. Nothing has been given in exchange for 24 agonizing months of loss and disappointment and failures and hopelessness and tears. I have nothing to show for years of trying relentlessly to have a family.

I want to scream at the universe. What else do I have to do?! Why can't this just be easier?! Over the past two years, I have had to watch every single person I know have healthy babies while I am STILL waiting for mine!! This is not fair!! This is not right!!

I look back over the last 24 months and I see so many tears, so many lost moments, so many empty days. I see my heart breaking over and over again, my faith dwindling, my hope fading, my dreams melting as my ovaries just continue to age and age.

It's becoming harder and harder to imagine what could have been. It's almost impossible to imagine my life turning out how I thought it would. I feel like over the past two years I've drifted further and further away from that life. I can barely remember what it felt like to dream of a future, to make plans, to have the luxury of choosing to have children. I often wonder if the universe actually laughed at my 3-children-before-35-plan.

Sometimes, I wish I could go back to that time when my dreams had no boundaries just to remember for a moment what it felt like to have endless possibilities in front of me. That blissful time before I knew the risks of embarking on a new journey. Before I knew just what the road to motherhood had in store for me.

I think of everything I've been through on this journey, and I can't help but wish it had been different. I wish it had been easier... a lot easier. I wish I had been given a different baby, a healthy one that I could have kept.

But then my heart sinks knowing what I would have to sacrifice. And I realize that even if I could start over, I could never choose another path. I could never knock down a different domino. As hard as this life is, I could never give up the two babies I carried, the two babies who I love with all my heart, the two babies who aren't here but who I think about every single moment of every single day. Because even though I wish things were different, I don't wish for a life without them.

Even with the enormous pile of hardships that weighs heavily on my soul, this is the only life I have with them in it. This road is the only one that could have led me to both of my precious children. Whatever choice I made two years ago that has landed me here, I know in my heart that I could never choose differently.

Because they're my babies. And I'm their mother.

And that's the one thing that I would never want to change.

Finding Grief in the Shadows of Healing

Feeling happy... even though life is always bittersweet.

Feeling strong... even though my heart is still broken.

Feeling hopeful... even though the future is terrifyingly uncertain.

Feeling grateful... even though I have lost so much.

Feeling brave... even though my soul is filled with fear.

Feeling optimistic... even though remaining positive can be exhausting at times.

Feeling at peace... even though worrisome thoughts swirl around in my mind.

Feeling blessed... even though I am constantly fighting jealousy and bitterness.

Feeling restored... even though part of me is more fragile than ever.

Feeling triumphant... even though I still have a long way to go.

Feeling mended... even though the journey to healing is long and bumpy.

Making progress... even though this grief is never-ever-ending.

Celebrating Gabriel

For the past few months, my husband and I have been working really hard, taking hundreds of photos in order to create this video for Gabriel's 1st Birthday. I'm so glad that we were able to finish it on time to share it on his birthday.

This is the story of Gabriel's gestation, life, birth, death and legacy, told through the animation of 1,357 photographs.

Thank you for watching and for keeping Gabriel in your heart today on his special day.

YouTube version (with option to watch in HD):


Vimeo Version (for cell phones):

Celebrating Gabriel from Catherine McVerry on Vimeo.

(Music by Helen Jane Long // All photographs are subject to U.S. standard copyright laws // All photos taken with iPhone 4s and Hipstamatic)

Still Standing

Oftentimes, when I pause to think about where I am in my life, it all feels so surreal.

Did I really lose a baby last year? Was he real? Am I really that person? How did things take such a turn for the worse so quickly?

I'm not sure if it's been a really long or a really short amount of time, but I see that a change has occurred in me and in the world that most closely encompasses me. 

In certain ways, my life is harder. It's impossible some days. My heart is broken and my once dependable world has now become unbearably fragile. I miss my son. I would do anything to have him here with me. I want to be a mother to a living baby instead of an angel baby. I want things to be as they were supposed to be. I want a chance to start over and get it right. 

But then there's part of me that embraces this tragedy in a strange inexplicable way. Because of this experience, I am a stronger, more sensitive and more appreciative person. I feel more alive now than I ever have before, perhaps because something so raw and so real happened that it awakened some kind of dormant energy. And though I wish things were so very different for all of us, I can't help but cherish the friends I've made and the incredible kindness that's been shown to me. I'm not sure that if Gabriel has lived, there ever would have come a time in my life that I would have known the kind of support and love that I've experienced during the past nine months. 

And for that support, I am grateful. 

To everyone who reads this blog, emails me on the 19th of each month, follows me on Facebook, writes Gabriel's name, thinks of him ever, or prays for me, I am so very grateful. Words cannot express how blessed I feel to know you.

I lost a huge piece of my heart. I will never watch my sweet little boy grow up. Sadly, I am a bereaved mother.

But because I have loving support and because I have found healing, I am still standing.

The Window

In my heart, in my soul, I feel cheated, maybe a little more-so than others. I feel entitled to be bitter at times because what happened to me wasn't fair. I feel like nothing makes sense anymore. I've analyzed my belief in God up and down, left and right and still can't put together a "God" that I recognize or understand. I feel comfortable with the belief that death is a part of a life, and that mistakes are an unfortunate (but necessary) part of nature. But where God fits in, I don't know. And because of that, I feel a little bit lost.

In my heart, in my soul, I wish my circumstances had been different. If I was destined to lose a child, I wish that it didn't have to be my firstborn ~ my only. I wish I knew that I could at the very least, have healthy children, a question to which the answer might very well be no. I wish I was younger. I wish I had more child-bearing years ahead of me than I have behind me. I wish I had more hope that everything will be okay.

In my heart, in my soul, I hate that nobody can tell us what happened to Gabriel, not even from a medical perspective. I hate that I have to wonder why my child died. I hate that this had to happen to me and my family. I hate that I have only questions; no answers. I hate death.

In my heart, in my soul, I am angry at fate or the universe or God or the world in general. We're taught to believe that if we do everything right, things will turn out alright. That happy endings exist for those who work hard and follow a certain path. But I did everything right, and my baby died anyways. I'm angry that my life has fallen apart and now I have to start over again, slowly piecing broken fragments back together. I'm angry that abusive, unfit, negligent parents get to keep their children, and for inexplicable reasons, I did not.

In my heart, in my soul, I miss all that I will never ever have. I miss my baby boy. I miss watching him grow up. I miss hearing his cry. I miss holding his tiny hands. I miss feeling his warmth, his life. I am missing so much, too much, that there is no possible way to write down all that I am missing. And because of this, I feel sorrow and resentment.

In my heart, in my soul, I'm a swirling cloud of grief and healing, past and present, love and hate. I'm not who I was or who I will be, but stranded in a confusing state of limbo. I'm searching for balance, for peace, for truth, but feel lost in the midst of a storm. I'm both more alive and less. I'm looking both into and out of the same window.

And I realize that it's my hand that's keeping the window shut; it's been my choice to keep it locked all along. I'm holding on to pain, sealing it in my heart, my soul. It's been my prisoner, but somehow it has imprisoned me as well.

So I wonder, if I never let the pain go, can I ever be free? And if I'm unwilling or incapable of opening the window, will love and joy ever find a way to flow back in?

Nothing about the past will ever change. Sadly this is true. But the years ahead have not been written. This life, the unwritten one, can be spent inside a prison with sorrow and heartache, agonizing over what has been lost. Or it can be spent opening the window and finding the courage and strength to leave the pain behind and fly free.

Weathering

Right now, it's mid-morning. The sky is grey and the fog is thick. Outside the temperature is at least twenty degrees cooler than it is inside, causing beads of condensation to form on the window sills. If you were standing outside at this exact moment, you wouldn't know where you were. San Francisco, Seattle, London, Paris. I'll tell you where I'd think I was. Some town near the coast, the Atlantic coast, and it's early morning when the sea air is still free to roam as it pleases.

It's dreary now. But in just a couple of hours, the fog will drift away. The sun will rise higher in the sky and the grey will slowly melt into tones of blue, until only the brightest blue you've ever seen remains. There won't be a cloud in the sky. The sun will radiate warmth and light. And here in Los Angeles on a typical day in March, it will feel like summertime. This afternoon, I'll be able to go to the beach, lay out on the sand, enjoy the sounds of a calm sea under a ceiling of endless blue. I just have to wait inside for a little longer.

Today it will be sunny, but tomorrow it might rain. Then again, tomorrow could be even sunnier than today. Despite what some may believe, I don't think it's possible to predict the weather. I don't think we can ever know in advance what tomorrow will look like, feel like, whether it will be cold and gloomy, warm and sunny, or unusually windy. But today, as I look out my window and watch the fog roll across the edge of the sky, I sense that soon this gloom will pass. I can feel it in the air. I suppose it's because I've lived here for so long. I know that sometime around 11 a.m. the sun will start to defeat the fog, the blue will find a way to overpower the grey, and the weather will turn, just as it always does.

Just as it always will.

Fittsie's Angels ~ How Babyloss Used To Be

I normally don't blog about other blogs because this is such a tight-knit community and sooner or later we stumble upon everyone else's blogs. I like that!

I take comfort in finding other babyloss mamas and sharing our stories and experiences with one another. I appreciate that we live in the year 2013 and our losses took place at a time when it's not only possible to talk openly about our babies, but it's easy and feels safe. I can come here any time, day or night, and write about anything I want and know that others will read it. When I feel alone, I can browse hundreds of blogs and websites and connect with others who share my feelings of grief and despair... others who understand.

Recently, I met Gale who shared her amazing blog, Fittsie's Angels, with me. What makes her blog unique (and so interesting) is that even though she just began blogging last year, she has been grieving for the past 37 years. Her losses occurred before I was born, before the Internet, before Blogger, before anyone spoke about babyloss. Gale suffered the loss of two babies during a time when grieving openly and publicly about stillbirth was not acceptable. All of the amazing organizations and ministries that exist today were not there to help her. All of the support and compassion we receive each day from one another did not exist for her. It did not exist for anyone. Hundreds of thousands of women and families were left alone to grieve silently.

They had to find a road to peace
all
by
themselves.

For me, that seems unimaginable. Actually, impossible.

It saddens me deeply, but I am also so grateful to these past generations, for the mistakes that were made are slowly being corrected today, so that we don't have to suffer alone and silently. I know that even today, babyloss is somewhat of a social taboo, but great steps have been taken. And we owe so much to those who walked this path before us. Those whose silent grief was studied and observed and over time was deemed the wrong way. Now, we know that things like holding your stillborn baby, making tangible memories, taking pictures, speaking their names, having a funeral, honoring their memories, going to support groups... are essential to healing.  

So many women and so many families were left feeling ashamed or abandoned. They were told by medical professionals to never speak of their babies. That it would be best for them to forget and move on. There are countless babyloss mamas out there who have no pictures of their children. They have no tangible keepsakes. They were not allowed to hold their babies. They lived during a time when doctors truly did believe that photos, keepsakes and bonding were detrimental to healing.

My great-grandmother lost two sons. My grandmother lost her son and daughter. My mother lost her daughter. I lost my son. Generations of woman after woman who lost their children, but I am the first who can say so out loud. I am the first to receive help and comfort outside the walls of my home.

I really find it so inspiring that after so many years, some babyloss mamas are finally speaking up. I think it's incredible that Gale has found the courage to write about her two precious children, after decades of being told that she never could. She is proof that nobody ever gets over the loss of their babies and that speaking about them is a vital part of healing.

Her generation has made way for so many improvements.

I hope that ours can do the same.

Embracing 2013

No matter what happens this year, I resolve to do my best to fill the next 12 months with priceless memories, meaningful relationships, dreams, hope, love and beauty, and to work on the goals I have in mind.

I want 2013 to be everything 2012 could have been (should have been), and I pray that God grants me a year of healing instead of another year of loss. This year I will keep Gabriel's memory alive by speaking his name, sharing his story, and doing whatever I can to offer support to the babyloss community. But I will also honor his life by learning from it, by gaining courage from it, and by living my life to the fullest despite missing such a significant piece of my heart.

I feel like my life became unraveled and sort of fell apart after Gabriel died. I hope 2013 brings me the strength and tools to put it back together. I hope that my 2013 journey includes more grieving and healing, and less hurting and regretting. I hope that I can truly and fully give my burdens to the Lord and allow Him to help me find happiness and peace.

Yesterday, I made a list of my 2013 new year's resolutions. It's not so different than my list of 2012 resolutions. Some I accomplished last year, though not in the way I had planned (so they're back on the list); others I didn't even begin working on. Having a baby was something I wanted to do in 2012. I did have a baby, but I don't know if Gabriel counts. Not that he isn't my baby. He is and always will be my firstborn child, but I feel as though I've failed us both in fulfilling that resolution. I've always wanted 2 or 3 (living) children, and instead I have 1 angel and an overwhelming inability to even envision having a healthy baby.

I suppose this would be a good time to add "Being Positive" to my list of 2013 new year's resolutions.

That brings the total number of resolutions to 12.

12 resolutions, 12 months.

At least on paper it sounds good :)

The sky on January 1, 2013 -- seeing the bright blue sky reminded me to start the new year with hope!

Capture Your Grief, Day 31: Sunset

Today is October 31, and the last day of Capture Your Grief. I can't believe it's over already! Even more unbelievable is that I posted pictures for each of the 31 days. Of course, Gabriel was my motivation. I feel like this project gave me something to do for him. It gave me those few minutes everyday to be closer to him, to think just about him and nothing else.

It has been surprisingly healing to go on this photo journey over the past 31 days. It's been challenging and inspirational, as well.

Thank you to everyone who participated along with me and who took the time to read my posts and view my pictures.

One last photo.

One final moment of grief captured.

         ~ Every sunset brings me one day closer to you ~

Capture Your Grief, Day 19: Projects

I've made a few things in memory of Gabriel, but definitely the most intricate and time-consuming was the prayer flag I made for Carly Marie's October 15th Prayer Flag Ceremony. I made this 6 weeks after Gabriel died and it definitely helped me to start healing.

My prayer for Gabriel is that he has found peace and light in Heaven with Jesus. I take comfort in knowing he is safe and that one day I will be with him again.

I was also inspired by Gabriel and other BLMs to start a project to help others in the babyloss community. Shortly after Gabriel died I went to a local botanical garden. I found this purple flower and picked it and for some reason I associated it with Gabriel. It was so beautiful, fragile and full of life. It comforted me to have a tangible reminder of Gabriel, so now once a month I return to this garden and pick flowers for other babyloss parents.You can read more about Gabriel's Garden HERE.

Capture Your Grief, Day 14: Community (Faith's Lodge)

I've been meaning to write about our trip to Faith's Lodge for awhile. If you're not familiar with Faith's Lodge, here is a brief description from their website:

"Faith's Lodge provides a place where parents and families facing the serious illness or death of a child can retreat to reflect on the past, renew strength for the present, and build hope for the future. In its North Woods setting, Faith's Lodge provides a peaceful escape for families to refresh their minds and spirits while spending time with others who understand what they are experiencing."

Faith's Lodge was established by Susan and Mark Lacek in memory of their baby girl, Faith, who died in June of 2000 from a cord accident. It is located on an 80 acre property in northern Wisconsin. Parents and families who have either lost a child in the past three years or who currently have a child with a serious illness may apply to stay there for up to five nights. There are different programs throughout the year, so that the week you attend, you will be among other couples or families who have faced a similar type of loss.

For example, we were there for the "infant loss" weekend of September 13-16, along with seven other couples who had all lost babies (either stillbirth or neonatal loss) in the past three years. We haven't had the chance to attend any events in the babyloss community yet, so this trip so far, has been our only experience with meeting a group of other BL parents.

Our group was diverse. Couples ranged from late teens to late 30's and losses occurred as early as 20 weeks GA to as late as 2 1/2 months old. All of our stories and situations were different and yet we were able to bond over our grief for the children we lost and our common devotion to keeping their memories alive.

During our time there, we spent a lot of time doing group activities such as painting heart-shaped rocks with our babies' names, decorating journals, making garden stones and painting birdhouses. We also had evening bonfires where we would gather, toast marshmallows and share stories.

We found comfort, support, and hope at Faith's Lodge. We got to be around people who understood how we felt, who wanted to hear about our son, and who didn't think we were crazy. It was nice to feel normal for a change.

The thing I liked most about Faith's Lodge was that we got to spend so much time honoring and remembering the children we've lost. It felt so healing to be able to talk about Gabriel and to work on crafts in his memory. The entire time, I felt like I was in a sacred place where babies and children are never forgotten.

The whole weekend was so much fun and it flew by so quickly. Nobody wanted to leave and go back to reality. I wish we could have stayed there forever, but in order for others to be able to go, we knew we had to leave.

Our time at Faith's Lodge lasted just a few days, but we hope to have made long-lasting friendships and to be able to hold onto beautiful memories for the rest of our lives.

If you ever get the chance to go, I highly recommend it.


Now for pictures... because it's impossible to describe just how breathtaking this place is!


The small heart-shaped rocks given to us to provide comfort during our group meeting. I'm using these as a representation of our group because I don't feel comfortable sharing pictures of other people.

Faith's Lodge:

   






The outside of Faith's Lodge:

We woke up early every morning to watch the magnificent sunrise over the lake. This is the view from our balcony:

Watching a beautiful sunrise from the bench swing in front of the lake. So peaceful!

8 dandelions to represent our 8 children:

Sophia's Bridge - where most people leave their children's rocks:

Standing on Sophia's Bridge

The garden stone we made in remembrance of Gabriel:

                                                                                                                                                                           

Corrado holding the sign he made during the mens' woodworking activity:

The angel statue garden where we left Gabriel's rock:

The heart-shaped rock we painted with Gabriel's name and birthdate

A tree in the forest at Faith's Lodge:

The steps leading down to the path in front of the lake: 

The table where we shared pictures of our babies:

The common room where we would talk and play board games:

Toasting marshmallows at the bonfire:

One last picture in front of Faith's Lodge, right before we left:

To learn more about Faith's Lodge, please visit their website: www.faithslodge.org

Finding Them at Angel's Gate

I feel like a lot of my BLM friends are having an especially difficult time recently. I guess it's true that grief comes in strides.

Lately, I have been doing okay, but I am bracing myself for tough times ahead. Gabriel's due date is right around the corner and I am already anxious because I'm anticipating a difficult day.

On October 3rd, the day Gabriel should have been placed in my arms breathing and screaming, I plan on going to the beach near my house to write names in the sand. I love this beach... the waves are calm, the shore is long and the sand is soft. Moreover, I recently found out that the nearby lighthouse at the end of the beach is called the "Angel's Gate Lighthouse."

They say this lighthouse has been built to endure the roughest storms and serves as a guide to traveling ships entering the harbor. 

This comforts me, inexplicably. 

I'm hoping that I can write the names of all of our babies on the shore and have enough time to photograph all of them before the tide washes them away. I think this will be a nice way to bring joy and comfort to us all, and will serve as a symbolic reminder that our babies are never too far from Angel's Gate. 

Prayers for strength and peace for all you BLMs struggling to cope. May you find your little ones at Angel's Gate someday...

If you would like your baby's name drawn in the sand, please make sure his/her name appears on my "Angel Birthdays" list as that is the list I will be bringing with me. 

Hand Made with Love

I finally sent my prayer flag off to Australia for Carly Marie's Remembrance Ceremony at Christian's Beach.

I finished it a few days ago, but have not had the time to go to the post office.

Anyhow, if any of you have not yet made a flag for your child, I really encourage you to do so.

I loved making mine! It took a lot of time, patience and effort, however I really enjoyed making something with my own hands that was special for Gabriel.

My theme (of course) was stars...

If you're interested, here is how I made my prayer flag, though I am certainly not an expert in making any kind of crafts :)

First, I dyed white fabric, a denim blue color and allowed it to soak in warm water to give it a faded, vintage look.

Second, I ironed on a picture of Van Gogh's Starry Night on a small piece of fabric, and stitched it to the top of the flag. 

Next, I covered the flag in stars cut out of yellow fabric, and sewed on star buttons for additional texture.

Then, I sewed on letters that spelled out Gabriel's name, and little angels, in the bottom corner. (I sewed similar angels into the blanket that Gabriel was wrapped in during his cremation, so they have special meaning to me.)

Then, I decorated a separate piece of fabric by gluing on blue stars and sewing on his name and birth date.

Lastly, I sewed the front piece to the back piece.

It didn't turn out exactly as I wanted (I'm not very crafty by nature), but overall I'm happy to say that it was made with love and with my baby Gabriel in mind. I think overall it probably took me about 1 hour of planning and shopping and another 4 hours to construct the flag from start to finish. Most of the time spent was sewing since I did everything with a needle and thread by hand. I'm sure I could have saved a lot of time by using a sewing machine, but I really felt like taking the time to make each stitch carefully with my hands.

I am so thankful for the opportunity to make this prayer flag in my son's memory. It was so healing! And it's so nice to know that it will be hung out on the beach and that its message will carried by the winds.

My prayer for Gabriel is that he is surrounded by God's glorious light in Heaven.

The only other thing I could ever ask for, is for God to show me mercy, by allowing me to join him there one day.