Skip to main content

I'm sorry

 I don't think I ever said thank you to those of you that helped us financially with Miss Charlotte and for that I am sorry. It probably seems like we are the most ungrateful people in the world. Which if we're being honest here, I feel ungrateful. I didn't want money, I wanted my baby. I would have given everything back if it meant we could have her. Like a trade? I would have given my life, if I had been given the opportunity.

When we had Conor, it was such a slap in the face and we felt like we lost everything, especially our financial stability (because we did). Charlotte was such a difference. Our dear friends set up a GoFundMe for us and believe it or not, our out of pocket for our insurance was $7,000. (CRAZY right?) But, I think the GoFundMe made just over that. Miracle. We were able to pay off all of my bills because of the money donated. There is no way we would have been able to do that without it. We were still trying to recover from losing our last baby.

 Also thank you to those of you that just sent us or handed us money. People we haven't talked to in years donated and that was the most beautiful miracle of them all. Thank you to all of our friends from all over the world who put our names in temples. Thank you. Even though I still hate what happened and I feel like it will take me years to be okay with it, it obviously was meant to happen the way it did because our names were in almost every temple throughout the world. From Paraguay to New Zealand and all over the U.S.

 Even though I still feel that way, the money helped more than we could have imagined. So thank you dear friends, old and new, thank you. Because I'd like to think that's what I would do if the roles were reversed. To be honest, I'm not sure I would know what to do. I get the feeling you all feel that way or you forgot, which I know you didn't, so it must be that you don't know what to do, how to help.

The newly married us


Send me texts, letters, emails, messages and don't be afraid to invite me to things. It's okay to stop by my house and talk. Being invited places is nice and makes me feel not forgotten and also hard for me lately. I want to be invited to play groups and outings with friends but it's hard for me to sit and talk about a long night of painful breastfeeding or how many poopy diapers you changed yesterday. It's hard for me to sit and listen to you complain about how exhausted you are because I would give anything to complain with you. In fact, I did once and I loved it. I loved being apart of something with other women.  I feel so out of place right now- it's weird. There aren't many people out there with one three year old. There are usually other babies involved and that's hard for me.

So please don't feel like I don't want to be around you or your beautiful babies when I make up a dumb excuse to not come. It's not that I'm avoiding you, but I guess I am. I don't even know what I'm doing. Please don't take offense if I never responded to you because the last thing I want to do is try to explain my roller coaster ride of emotions. Some days I can take it and others are horrible. Some things set me off and some things don't. I was completely fine in Target the other day (while avoiding the baby girl section) and saw a pink bow someone had left in the kitchen area. Right then and there I sobbed. Seriously, I don't even know how to explain it.

Please understand that I love you and I treasure our friendships but it's hard for me right now. Please understand that I understand how hard having a new baby is. How post postpartum depression is real and awful. I understand. I know that you are having a hard time too right now so it's not that I don't understand, it's just hard. Please understand that I am happy for you, truly. I am happy you have beautiful little girls, kids. I am. I would never wish this trial upon anyone. I just want mine to be able to play with yours that's all.

 I love and truly appreciate those that keep texting and emailing me. It makes me feel like I'm not the only still thinking about her, still missing her. If you let me know you miss her too, it helps. If you let me know you saw a butterfly or a pretty flower and remembered her, it helps.

 I miss her. Four months old is a fun age. They are just figuring out how to smile and giggle. I wish I could see her smile and hear her giggle. You know I never heard her voice? She never screamed, she was alive but couldn't breathe on her own. I wish I could have heard her. I wish I would have recorded her while she was alive. Even though she didn't do anything others might think was too impressive, she lived and that was impressive to me.

You have been good to us. We've been given money, gift card after gift card, letters, Mauna Loa chocolates from Hawaii, sweet children's books to help with Owen, teddy bears, gorgeous meaningful quilts, beautiful necklaces, plenty of flowers, hugs, kind and helpful emails, texts, Facebook messages.



I want you to know I've seen them all. I've cried when I've received them. I've loved them, every single one. I may not have responded to them but I saw them and I am grateful for them. I guess sometimes it's too hard for me to respond. Sometimes I wonder if you need me to say something strong because you keep calling me that. If only you could see me on a daily basis. We cry for her a lot.

Owen and I were looking at Halloween costumes a few days ago and he saw an adorable pink flamingo costume for a baby. He said we should get that for Charlotte. I told him we couldn't because Charlotte isn't here. He responded with "I know mom, when she comes back".

You make this heart wrenching, Earth shattering experience a little bit lighter and easier for me to attempt to handle.

It's one of those cliche sayings but we are truly at a loss for words because of the kindness shown to us. I know I basically just said "Invite me but don't expect me to come" and honestly that's just how it is right now.

Since I'm being honest here.. I'm still angry. It's been four months and I'm still angry. I wish the world could stop, stand still and remember my sweet girl. I wish the world understood how much pain I am in. I wish everyone would stop what they are doing, get off their computer, put down the laundry or dishes and hug their babies. Smother them in kisses. Smell their sweet baby breathe. Lay down on the floor with them and just be. Take the time. I regret so much just wanting Owen to grow up. I regret being so angry that "he wasn't letting me sleep".  They are hard but oh so worth it. They are exhausting but oh so perfect. When you get up for the fourth time in the middle of the night, be grateful. Try to think happy thoughts, even though thoughts don't come in full sentences at that hour, try. Hug your sweet baby for me.

Speaking of angry, Chris and I went to get tested but before we could my genetic counselor put in the case to our insurance and they denied it. As if losing my baby to a genetic defect wasn't bad enough, now we can't even find out if our future babies will get it. They denied it. They said it wasn't medically necessary for future pregnancies.So to say I'm angry is an understatement.


Comments

  1. I will never try to understand how you feel because I can't even imagine it. I know we only met for a brief minute and that our husbands get to spend a lot of time together, but I still think of you often. I don't know if it helps or hurts, but if you ever need a baby girl to hold in your arms while you sob, you are always welcome to Afton. I'm well acquainted with tears. I didn't lose a baby, but I worked so hard to get one and between that, and hearing stories Iike yours, I truly do try to cherish every moment. Every single second. There will always be people who forget how miraculous life is, I hope those comments will get easier for you. For now, it's ok to be angry. Whatever emotion you are feeling is exactly what you should be feeling so that you can figure each emotion out, in my opinion. Just know you aren't forgotten, even by those you aren't super close to, and take all the time you need. We are here when you're ready. <3

    ReplyDelete
  2. I don't know you.But I know what you're going through. I lost my 3 month old daughter, Avalynn, to congenital defects on June13th this year.I know how deep & overwhelming the loneliness, pain, longing and despair can be. I also know how bad you miss her & how you would give or do anything for her... Everything you said just mirrored my thoughts & feelings exactly... I couldn't have said it better. I'm with you. If you want to learn about my daughter, she has a public page on Facebook called Avalynn's Angels

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Charlotte May Hendrickson June 5, 2015

I'm going to start by saying I'm on heavy doses of Lortab and Tylenol. I'm seriously having a hard time making complete sentences but I want this to be out so you know what happened. From the beginning of this journey, Chris and I have felt like this has been such a "team" trial. We've had so much support and so many prayers offered on our behalf and that it's such a devastation to everyone that this happened. You are my team and I want you to be in on everything.

I honestly can't believe I'm sitting down at the computer and starting to write this out, again. Trying to explain what just happened, again. Trying to find the words to describe accurately how I feel. So here's my best.

Thursday, June 4, 2015
I had felt her move very gently only three times on Wednesday so when I woke up on Thursday I went straight for the sugary cereal in hopes that would wake Charlotte up and get her moving. I ate and waited. I grabbed a cold water, drank half and …

Two, Four + Six years

Today is kinda a big day. Everything is hitting today. Our sweet Conor would have been two years old a week ago, Owen turned four and in a couple weeks Chris and I have been married for six years. That's a lot of anniversaries. Some great to remember and celebrate and some not. Everybody has those.

Our little buddy Conor would be TWO! See that muffin top down there? That's Conor not Cafe Rio, well maybe a little of both. Conor leaves some strange memories. Although we lost him, his soul, his body, I don't miss him. It that terrible or what?

After his early surprise delivery I was shocked, there's no doubt about that, but I almost immediately felt like he was a big, grown, man taking care of me. Owen didn't realize what was happening, well none of us did. He didn't ask about him everyday, he was just too young to understand. It just didn't seem like the end of the world. Everyone can handle a certain amount of pain and heartbreak right? Compared to Charlotte…

1 Year

It's officially been an entire year since I last held my chunky baby. Some days are doable and some are as if we lost her yesterday. The mysterious thing about grief is comes in waves. Sometimes just small tidal waves brushing the shore full of heartache and sometimes 40 foot waves of rage, anger and depression. You never know which is coming and when. Sometimes it comes from a small argument with a sister and quickly spirals into grief.. arguments are rarely ever about what it started as. I had a break down the other day, I can't even remember what sparked it but it was harsh. It was brutal. I've come to realize that I will grieve as long as I live. That as long as I miss her and as long as I love her I will grieve.






We want her so badly and my mind can't seem to stop from thinking that. I know I can't have her here, but that's all I think about. When I look at my friends babies, at dinner, at the movies, I want her there with us. She would be the same age as t…