Carlee Marie

I have been avoiding writing this post, one, because I haven't been able to find the words to accurately explain how I am feeling, and two, because I know it will be an extremely personal post. You can't write about the birth of your child without it being personal. So, here goes...

Carlee Marie entered this world on August 23, 2011 at 8:12am. She weighed 7 pounds 14 ounces and was 20 1/2 inches. She is absolutely perfect. Seeing her, holding her, kissing her for the first time, life made sense. The first moments of her life were happening so fast I had no time to think of anything other than the perfect little girl I had been blessed with. 

It wasn't until an hour or so later when I felt the "bitter" to this bittersweet day. Seeing my in-laws hold their new granddaughter for the first time I felt a piece of my  heart break again. Watching my husband watch his parents hold his little girl with such pride in his eyes reminded me that I will never have that moment. I will never see Carlee is my mom and dad's arms. She will never hear their voices.  

I guess to fully give you a glimpse into my head, my heart, I have to take you back a few months, well, about 9. The first few months or so of my pregnancy were a blur, I don't think it really hit me that I was going to have another baby until I started to feel her move around. There was just so much going on, so much I had to process. And part of me was too afraid to really embrace the pregnancy, I was terrified that this baby was just someone else that I would lose. There was a moment, around the time we found out we were having a girl, when I thought that I would find some sort of peace when Carlee would be born. I truly believed that I would feel better, happier, that I would be healed. That moment has yet to happen. The birth of my daughter has not made the death of my parents any easier.

Please, do not misunderstand what I am saying. I absolutely adore and am completely in love with my sweet baby girl. I just expected, or at least hoped that having her here would heal me. Would make me "ok" again. She fills my life with a thousand times more joy. I have 2 beautiful little girls who give me a reason to smile, to laugh, to dance, to play. Even on the hardest days, its impossible not to smile the moment I see their faces.

However, with the joy comes the heartache. Because it is impossible for me to not wish they were here to witness it all. Every milestone one of my girls' reaches is also a reminder of the heartbreak I have experienced. Izabella learns a new word, or does something cute or funny, and I immediately want to pick up the phone to call and share it with my parents. Carlee is crying and I can't calm her, and I want my mother's advice.

Those things will never change, I realize that now. I just have to learn to live with the sorrow that will always be in my heart. I have to learn to let the joy, the happiness I feel not be overtaken by the sorrow, the sadness. One day...

(Carlee is now a month old and weighs 10 pounds 8 ounces and is 22 1/4 inches! Izabella better watch out, her baby sister may not be her "little" sister for long! She is doing well, and is a happy baby, except from the hours of 7-10pm, silly colic! Bella loves her sister and often wants to hug and kiss her without us asking her to. I live a truly blessed life.)

God gave me you...

Their Love Story. 37 Years later...

On August 17, 1974 my mother and father stood before God, their family and friends and promised to love, honor and obey. They took those vows seriously. 37 years later they are no longer here with us, however, their legacy, their love story lives on. They left behind 3 sons and a daughter, all with families of their own. 8 (soon to be 9) grandchildren who loved and adored them. They live on through all of us, we are their story.


They never spent one of their 37 anniversaries apart. Even last year, when my mom had open house at THS, my dad sat in the back of her classroom, waiting to take his wife out to dinner. They loved and cared for each other more than their own selves. I am proud to be a part of their story, I am proud to be their daughter.


Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad. I know you are celebrating in a more beautiful place than I can imagine, and dancing to more beautiful music than I have ever heard. I love you both and miss you more than anything.

one week.

In exactly one week my world will change once again, but this time it's an amazing change. One week from today (if not before) my husband and I will be welcoming our second daughter into the world. I am a crazy mix of emotions right now! From terrified, to thrilled, to overwhelmed. I am trying to sort through all of the crazy things I am feeling!


I know it will be a bittersweet day for me, and I am sure for some of my family. Bitter because it will be another event that reminds me of what I have lost. It will be a reminder that they aren't here. Sweet because my family will be complete, the gift that my father sent to me, will finally be in my arms. I would be lying if I said that I am not terrified. Will I be strong enough? My daughters birth will be the true indicator of how I am actually coping. It will be the first big event that my parents are not here to see. Of course, I know that they are watching. But, let's face it, it is just not the same as if they were here to hold my hand, hold my daughter.


I could never explain what Carlee means to me, she isn't even here yet and she has changed my world, changed the way I view the world. She has shown me that life really does go on. She has given me hope when I have felt completely hopeless. She has been my light at the end of a long dark tunnel. And I am pretty sure she has been that for other members of my family. Carlee's birth will be the first really positive big event in a lot of our lives. She is such a special baby, I hope one day she truly understands that. 


--Carlee Marie, she is named after my dad, Carl, and Zeb's two grandmothers whose middle names were both Marie. (Yes, I have had to explain that.) I cannot wait to meet her. I cannot wait to hold her. I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life taking care of her and her big sister. I pray that I can have the impact on my daughters' lives that my parents had on mine. Izabella and Carlee truly saved my life. I have gotten out of bed every morning for the last 9 1/2 months for them, to make their lives the absolute best that I can. I hope I am doing a good job of that.


[Sometimes the thought of my parents never getting to meet Carlee is so overwhelming, I begin to panic. Then I take a deep breath and remind myself that they are with her now. Somewhere in heaven they are sitting on a swing watching the traffic go by, they are holding her and kissing her. They are telling her all about her Mom, her Dad and her big sister. They are getting her ready to meet us. They've been with her this whole time, taking care of her until she is here with us. They are teaching her everything that they would if they were still here. When I begin to panic about them not being here to welcome her, I remind myself that they are the ones sending her to me, that she will leave their arms as they place her in mine. Maybe this isn't the way your heaven works, but it is the way mine does. Believing this keeps me sane.]

not fair.

"It's not fair," those were the words of my then 6 year old cousin when she came up to me and hugged me at my father's wake. Those were the words I have thought to myself over and over again over the last 9 months. The difference between her saying it and me saying it, is that I know better. She is 7 now, she doesn't understand the way life works. She only knows she loved her Uncle and her Aunt and now they are gone, she doesn't know though, how blessed I was to have them for as long as I did. And sitting here writing this, I am trying to remind myself of just that.

When I was just a little girl 2 of my uncles died too. I remember their funerals, I remember not understanding. I understand now.

My parents were there when I started kindergarten, when I had my first broken heart, when I graduated high school. My dad walked me down the aisle the day I said "I do." My mom held my hand while I was in labor with Izabella. They were there for all of my life's "big moments." I am blessed and lucky for that. I know that without a doubt, because I have seen how much it hurts when your parents aren't able to be there.

I have watched my sister-in-law, Alyssa's, brother "give her away" at her wedding because her father passed away when she was still just a teenager. I have seen my cousins go through most of their "big moments" without their dads there to see. Kyle was just a baby when his dad passed away, and his older sister and brother were really just kids. Angie was so young when her dad passed, but the memories she does have she holds very close to her heart. Her older sister and brother were just young adults, just teenagers. That is what is not fair. Grandchildren born who never had the opportunity to meet their Paw Paws. Daughters whose fathers never got to "give them away." Sons whose dads never got to teach them to play ball or how to drive.

I am heartbroken to no longer have my parents. But I cannot deny how blessed I am to have had them for as long as I did.

In some ways maybe I don't know what true heartbreak is. I have watched both of my grandmothers bury their children. And I stood in a cemetery and watched my cousin bury the baby she carried within her body, the baby she loved, and felt move, but never got to hear cry. I do not know that pain. And I pray that I never have to.

I don't know their kind of pain, I just know my pain. I know the pain of having your whole world turned upside down in a matter of months.

The 26 year old me knows that death is a part of life. That I am lucky, blessed and fortunate to have had my parents for as long as I did. But the 6 year old me wants to cry, kick and scream, "It's NOT fair."

I miss them, I want them back. The heartache feels like it will never go away. 

=)

She won't ever remember the times she spent with them, but I will never forget.

wants and needs.

Today I have been thinking a lot about the difference between wants and needs. If there is really a difference at all. 

 
All day I have found myself thinking "I need them," then, like I parent correcting a child, I remind myself that I do not "need" them, I "want" them.  (You do not "need" that video game, you "want" it.)

But I wonder if in some cases there is really isn't  a difference. No, I do not need my parents to physically survive, I want them. But what about emotionally? Emotionally I feel as though I need them. I know that I will technically survive without them. But, in what condition? Will I be a better person? A stronger person? Or, will I come out irreversible broken? That outcome has yet to be seen. 

What has got me thinking about this today while yesterday seemed to be a good day?
For the last 3 days I have been in a lot of physical pain, normal at this stage of pregnancy. My doctor's advice is to stay off of my feet as much as possible. Not exactly easy to do with a 18 month old. A very active 18 month old. And of course, I hate having a messy house. So, all day I have been thinking, "I need them." Not because I would expect them to be here cleaning my house and taking care of my child. But because the only thing I can think of that would make me feel better is laying on my parents' couch watching a movie with my mom, while my dad and Izabella are outside swinging watching the traffic go by...

Moving Forward...

When my mom was in a coma I wrote to her in a journal everyday. I had hoped that when she woke up she would be able to read it, read about what she had been through, what we were going through without her. I still write in the journal, to her, every now and then, however I cannot bring myself to read what I wrote to her in those 21 days.

I do not need to read about what happened in those 3 weeks. I relive those days, and the 2 months before, in my head every day. I go over every single detail, searching for something that could have changed the outcome. My mind knows that I need to accept that what happened cannot be undone, my heart just won't accept it.

I do not know how to stop wishing they would come back. I still need them. There are days that I still pick up the phone to call them, and my heart breaks all over again when I remember that they can't pick up. I need my Mother's advice, my Father's reassurance. I need their love. It's really that simple.

I've been trying really hard to figure out how to move forward with my life. Not move on, not forget them, but to take their memories, their love and all that they had taught me and move forward. I have realized that it's all about baby steps. It's the little steps along the way that will get you to where you need to be.

Here is what I have figured out so far... You LIVE. Life doesn't stop when you lose someone you love. There is no pause button that you can press and resume when you are ready. Life goes on.

There are still people here with me who love me, who need me. So, I get out of bed every day when I hear this little voice come on the monitor. I put a smile on my face, and we play, sing, dance, laugh. I read to her and teach her things. I comfort her when she is sad, reassure her when she is scared. We cuddle and I steal kisses. In those sweet moments, life is perfect. In those moments, I realize that everything my parents taught me, remained with me when they left, that a piece of them lives on in me, in my brothers, and in their grandchildren.

Of course, there are sad days, sad moments in every day. But I fight through them, determined to come out in one piece, determined to be the strong person I was raised to be. I know that this journey will have many steps, some forward, some backwards. Some happy moments, some sad, some bittersweet. But, it is a journey that I have to take, it is my life, my reality, and no matter how hard, I have to accept it, to learn to live with it.

I miss their voices, and I know what I can do to hear them. Pressing "play" on the DVD player once my wedding video is in has proven to be harder than I thought. Baby steps. I'll keep taking these "baby steps" until I get "there."

(As I am typing this at the kitchen counter, Bella is watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse in the living room. I've had to stop writing 4 times in 30 minutes though, because when she pokes at me and puts her arms up for me to pick her up, I just can't resist. She wants to cuddle on the sofa with Mommy, and if there was one lesson my parents taught me, it's that you always put your children first.)