Gweecie's soooes

Pregnancy is hard for me. I get really sick. While I was pregnant with Gracie, I lost over 15lbs. I had a couple of IVs because even water wouldn't stay down. It was hard to do much of anything. And then came the grief. When grief comes, there are many different "symptoms". For me, all food tastes horrible. Usually like cardboard or baby rash medicine. And I loose all drive.

If you know me, you know that crafting and cooking are pretty much my most favorite things to do. Gingersnaps, sour cream cake, orange coconut cookies. Stuffed animals, cards, kids clothes, blankets. I had a hard enough time just getting out of bed while pregnant, but when we lost Gracie, everything kind of just stopped. Not only did crafting and cooking become dull, I didn't even want to! I hated the idea of doing anything like that. And honestly? That scarred me. I LOVED doing those things! What was wrong with me?

I even got a new sewing machine for Christmas. I had worn out the motor and the belt on my last one. The only things I had sewn with it? Gracies burial dresses and blankets and loveys. I still have my fabric stash from JoAnn's Black Friday Sale still sitting untouched in my closet.

Last week I tried. I pulled out my sewing machine and tried. I made a weighted blanket for the girls. No joy in it. I baked. Nothing. Nada. I took up making balloon animals. It is fun in the moment, but I don't quite consider it "crafty" enough for me.

And then, the cemetery began yard work. Which means that if you don't remove the decoration from your loved ones grave, they will. And they definitely do NOT keep them for sentimental purposes. The idea that they would throw my baby girls stuff away was down right terrifying. So we cleaned her grave off. Other than placing everything in the back of our car, I haven't done much with them yet. I can't quite bring myself to. Someday.

But that means that when I want to nurture Gracie, I can no longer just take something to her grave. I did spend a couple days just holding and rocking our Gracie bear. That feeling of helplessness crept up again.

I don't quite remember how I decided to do this, most assuredly by inspiration, but the one thing that I didn't do for Gracie (all right, obviously there is more than one thing that I feel that I didn't do, but this one is one that still eats at me late at night) is make her baby booties. I actually made two different dresses because we weren't sure exactly what size she was going to be. One pattern I was graciously given by an earthly angel who makes burial gowns out of wedding dresses. (She had offered to make one for Gracie but it was my way of taking care of my baby, so I declined and she sent me the pattern.) The other was also inspiration because it is a dress that could have fit her, regardless of her size.

But there are no patterns on micro booties. And I honestly didn't have the brain power to come up with one. Especially as we didn't know exactly what size her feet would be. I rationalized that the dress would cover her feet, and if it didn't, when I swaddled her in her blanket, her feet would be warm.

Now I KNOW she is dead. There is no reason to keep her feet "warm" and there is really no way to keep them warm as her blood was no longer circulating through her body. Yes. I get that. No I am not delusional. But its a mom thing, keeping your kid warm starts with socks, right?

There is a non-profit organization that, supplied by donations, brings clothes for stillborns to the hospital. I am so grateful for them. But the smallest baby bootie size they had was entirely too big for Gracie. They still sent us home with them so we could put it in our memory box.

Anywho. As I was grieving the loss of being able to nurture Gracie by taking decorations to her grave, the thought somehow came to me to make little booties for her. I did. They were very healing to make. And when I slipped the finished product onto her foot mold, it fit. Ty and I both cried a little. And I kind of just sat on it for another few days. Holding them in my hand, wishing I could put them on her feet. And then I realized that other moms might feel the same way I do. Wanting to keep their baby's toes warm, but not having a way to do that. I checked with the volunteer organization to see if they would take them. They will.

Suddenly I had something to do! I was going to wait until my first donation to post about this. I was going to start a facebook page. I was going to do a lot of stuff, but really, because I am still grieving, things take a lot longer than usual to do, and sometimes I can't do them at all, and though I have great ideas and good intentions, by the time I get around to doing everything I want to, there will be people that COULD have been helped that wont be because I waited.

So here they are. These are what I have made so far. And actually, since taking these pictures, I have made a few more pairs. There is sadly always a need for donations. Pint sized diapers, micro clothes. If you follow this link http://www.utahshare.org/, you can find contact information to donate in Northern Utah. This link http://teenytears.blogspot.com/ takes you to a blog with patterns on diapers and clothes. If you find the time and would like too, please consider making and donating. Whether to SHARE or to your local hospital.

This is my way to grieve, my way to heal. If you are looking for a service project, consider these items. It really means more than words can say to be able to have a sense of dignity, dressing your baby. Nothing can express the feeling of looking at the many different outfits and being able to pick something for Gracie to wear. There is no store for angels that small. But the fact that someone took the time (and really, it doesn't take much time at all) to make clothes so that my baby could be dressed, to make a diaper her size, I can't find the words to describe it. It may seem like something so small can't make that much of a difference, but believe me, it does. It does.

 Some of the "Gweecie soooes", ready to be donated. The small green and blue pair? They are for an upcoming project for later this year. Stay tuned. 

 Really, this is how small they are.

 Gracie's foot mold. So precious, so tiny! One of the services provided by SHARE.

 Gracie's foot mold in comparison to the smallest baby bootie size they had from donations.

 And yet, even they are extremely small. 

Her foot mold in one of the booties. It fits. 

Pattern for "Gweecie Sooes"

For this ^^^ paticular one, I used a hook size E/4 and the type of yarn/string used to make the leporsy bandages. But really, you can mix and match hook sizes and yarn type. Different pairings make different sizes.

Round 1: Single Crochet (sc) 6, sc in second to last stich, sc in the next. Half Double Crochet (hdc)1 in next stich, 2 in the stich after that and 5 in the last one. Working in the back loop only, hdc 2, hdc 1, sc and then 2 sc in the last stich. 

Round 2: sc all the way around

Round 3: sc in back loop only all the way around

Toe shaping, Round 1: sc 6, skip, hdc, skip, sc 6

Round 2: 2 sc in first stitch, sc 5 Decrease next two stitches, Decrease next two stitches, sc 5

Round 3: 2 sc in first stitch, sc 4, skip, sc 3, skip, sc 4

Round 4: sc all the way around

And Wha La! 

You may have to tweak it here and there depending on the mixing of hook size and yarn type you use. 

Perspective of Grief : Kotah

You know how some little kids just "know" things? Kotah was that way. Before we told her and Katie about Gracie, she would come over to me, pat my belly and smile up at me and say "Baby!", or sometimes she would just come up and kiss my tummy, smile, and walk away.

It would shock me when she did that. Katie also "knew". She kept asking me everyday "Are you SURE there isn't a baby in your tummy???". Because we didn't know exactly what was wrong from the 12 week appointment to the 16 week appointment, I answered in the negative because I didn't want them to attach to a sibling to have them just taken away. That all changed though when we found out Gracie didn't have much time left. I wanted them to be able to have that connection and to have as much time as possible with her. Once we told them, Katie went into high-gear, older sister protective mode. She would cuddle with Gracie (my tummy) as much as she could/I could handle. She would talk to her and sing to her. We played Barbies with Gracie. Blocks, couch forts, play dough, painting, bedtime stories and so much more. Things we would have done with her had we been able to bring her home. To us though, it seemed that Kotah didn't quite understand. Even when Gracie was born, I still didn't think she got it. When we buried Gracie she waved good-bye as the dirt covered her coffin and said "Bu Bye Gweecie." It was tender, it was cute, but I still didn't think she understood, or that her age allowed for her to understand what had happened. One night, shortly after, she patted my tummy and said "No bebe. Bebe all gone." And then she touched my heart and my head and said "Bebe here", and I thought, maybe she gets it more that I do. 

As the weeks have passed by, whenever we go to the cemetery to visit Gracie, Kotah is always excited and squeals "Gweeeeeeeeeecieeeeeeee!" And after playing around with all the flowers and decorations on her grave, will run off to see other grave decorations. There are no expectations to grief. Especially for a 2 year old. I had figured that as she gets older and as we remember Gracie, she will want to have ways to remember being involved, even if she doesn't quite seem like it right now. So we have involved her in everything. The girls each have a "lovey" made out of scraps from Gracie's blanket. They each have dolls, bears, blankets. They each painted pictures for her, with her. They each have pictures of them holding her. Katie cherishes hers. Kotah could care less right now, but it wont always be this way. So I planned for the time when she will feel the loss and want to feel a connection to her sister. 

That time came, in a sense, today. 

To preface, the past few days she has been increasingly more aware of things that are associated with Gracie. Our Gracie bear she is wanting to hold more. The necklaces that Ty and I have she is constantly pulling at and saying over and over "Gweecie. Gweecie." As I have started a service project making little booties to donate for other angel babies (more on that to come in another post) she will grab them once they are done and try to hide them and yell "My Gweecie's! My Gweecie's sooooes! (shoes)". I was starting to think that she was coming upon a greater understanding and was experiencing the grief that comes with that. 

And then, this afternoon she came and lifted up my shirt and patted my belly and said in a very concerned tone "Gweecie? Ah you in dwere? Bebe Gweecie?! GWEECIE???!!! Weh ah you??" She started bawling. My broken heart went on to break some more. I told her that Gracie was with Jesus. She yelled "No! I wan Bebe Gweecie!" Through her tears, she held out her hands and said "You cuddle me?" I pulled her close and rocked her back and forth. As I struggled with what to say, she suddenly perked right up and started playing peek-a-boo and wanted to rough house. Seemingly oblivious to the fact that she had just more fully realized her loss. 

I think that is what it is like, for little children. We talk about short attention spans and really, they are just so present. So focused on the moment. And sometimes, little children can only handle the intensity of emotional pain for a certain amount of time. They are true to their emotions that they understand in the moment. They feel. But only as much as they can handle at a time. 

Adults too, I think. There are moments when I just have to sit and cry. And cry and cry. And then I smile at something. I laugh. I take a deep breath and move on from the moment. (Although my moments are usually longer than that.) It doesn't mean I am done grieving. It doesn't mean I am over it. It just means I am taking it one moment at a time. Kotah is too. I am sure this isn't the only time she will grieve. And just because she didn't sit in her grief for forever does it mean she is over it. And just because it isn't obvious to me doesn't always mean she can't understand. 

She does.

Sisters

A bag of Oranges

It has been a rough week. A rough couple of weeks. On top of the struggle of just trying to get through the day, is having to deal with the comments, the expectations. The "well, it's been a month now so you should have had enough time to grieve" comments. The expectation of if I seem to be having a good day then I must be over it.
The pain that comes with loosing a child is intense. Scary almost. And harder still is that most situations are different, personal. There is no comparison. There are things that are similar, but each experience is unique. Even those that are close to me have said that it is hard to know what to say. What to do. I don't know sometimes. But what I do know is that I am not over it. I don't know if I will ever be over it. I am not done grieving. I don't have a timeline or an expectation for that. I lost a child. My child died. I don't wish the personal understanding on anyone, but sometimes I wish at least understanding that "my dog died so I know exactly how you feel" is out of line! (true story)
There are many blog posts on how to help someone who has lost a child to miscarriage, stillbirth or infant death. There are many things NOT to say. But I don't want to focus on that tonight. Google it. Google is wonderful.


A few days after we found out that Gracie would not live, a friend showed up at my door with a bag of oranges. She said something to the effect of "I don't know what you are going through. I don't know how to help. But I wanted to brighten your day and these oranges looked bright to me at the store, so I bought you a bag of oranges." Oranges didn't fix the problem. Oranges didn't do much of anything, but I cried over that bag of oranges. They meant so much.

(FYI, this is not a plea for bags of oranges.) The point I am trying to make is that even small things can make a world of difference. We all have our own personal cups of sorrow that get filled in their own ways. Many times we are blessed to know how to help others with their cups, what to do, but most times not. Most times we think we should do something, but our ideas seem stupid. We worry that we will say or do the wrong thing. That we will hurt someone or embarrass ourselves. The other week I was prompted to reach out to someone and I didn't. I thought that not only did I have nothing to give, nothing to offer, but that it would come across the wrong way. Then I placed myself in the other persons shoes. If it were me, wouldn't I just be grateful to be acknowledged? To feel like someone cared? Thankfully, the next day I was able to rectify my inaction, and it turned out to be a great thing. When we feel like we can't do enough and would rather do nothing, it is then that we should listen to the promptings. A call, a note, a bag of oranges. Even though seemingly small and insignificant, mean so much.

A not so "strong" post

Today we received our "Gracie Bear". It is a bear that is made out of blankets that we wrapped Gracie in. We told the girls that this was mommy's bear. Katie accepted that (they both have 3 specifically from this) but Kotah is pretty sure that it is hers. I guess I can share....sometimes. And I wonder where they get their possessiveness from... lol. It felt right to get it today, its been 3 weeks. And I was going to post a lovely blog about it and about all the little things that matter, but its just not in me tonight. So then I was going to write a somewhat philosophical post about grief, but that is not in me either. So tonight, I invite you in. To the part of me where I am not strong. Where I don't have a smile on my face. Where I am not grateful for this experience. Where I cry myself to sleep every night. Tonight is raw. 

I wake with salt crusted in the corners of my eyes

And your name still whispered on my lips

The grief of the night hanging in the air

Lingering

My eyes struggle to take in a new day

The sunlight mocks my pain

Bold and defiant it puts more distance between us

The demands of the day scream

Unfeeling to my loss

There is no rest

Is it really unknown strength 

or total defeat that moves me on?

My world spirals and I grasp for control

But find nothing to hold

Loss of control, loss of sense, of fairness

Loss of a life

My heart cries out with each continued beat

Beating without you

If only it could have beat for you

If only I could have saved you

Everything looks gray now

Even the sky

I embrace the overcast

I smile and sigh in relief at the wind

The weather understands

(It is the only one)

And I don't feel so alone

The clouds hold back the rain

I hold back my tears

But eventually

Both of us will break

The E L Fudge cookie diet - filling the void.

Yes, I am considering that a new thing. It's all the rage. Those are pretty much the only things that taste good right now. Last week they were on sale. By 8, save $.50 a box. Lets just say that we had to go stock up again today.... And I am down 3 lbs. Granted, I didn't eat them all myself, but still. I think maybe I'll contact the company and offer to do advertising for them. Maybe I better go stock up on more before I do that. Weight loss cookies..... that would sell for a lot more than $1.88.

There are few things that fill the void inside right now. Aside from delicious fudge filled cookies, not much else works. Prior to Gracie;s birth, when we knew that she would die, we bought dolls and teddy bears for Katie and Kotah to cuddle when they felt sad. Many times Katie would offer her teddy or her doll to me when she noticed I was sad. There is a wonderful organization called Angel Watch that, among other services, take blankets that an angel baby is wrapped in at the hospital and turn them into bears. There really are no words to describe the physical ache that your arms feel when you loose a child. It's seems funny or weird sometimes, the things that matter after loosing a baby, but I am looking forward to seeing and holding our "Gracie Bear". The amount of service and love that we have found in various support organizations such as Angel Watch is quite amazing.

Sometimes, there is still a feeling of helplessness that comes and I feel like I should be able to do something for Gracie. Something, ANYTHING. It is a harsh reminder that she is gone. There isn't a medicine I can take or a certain food to eat or exercise to do that will do something for her. As a parent, as a mom, taking care of my children is a major part of my life. To not be able to do that for Gracie is hard. Times like these, I take something to her grave. Flowers, a pinwheel, something in an effort to take care of her. Again, it seems silly the things that matter, but they matter so much. The other day I got mad at a storm because it blew away the balloons we had left when we buried her. I was able to smile at myself afterwards- a while afterwards- but in the moment the feelings are real.

Knowing that I will see her again takes away a lot of pain. Pain I don't think I can even understand or would want to. The pain I feel is bad enough. But there is still a void, still an ache, still a loss. I miss my baby.

What's in a name?

It's been a week. One week since the last time I held my child. One week since I last saw her face, kissed her head, held her to my heart. One week.

Someone asked me the other day if I felt it was unfair that the world continued to go on. Not really. It was my personal loss. I expect the world to go on. What I find unfair at times is that my world still has to go on. I still have to make doctor appointments, file paperwork for taxes, cook dinner (although thank goodness for takeout!!!), spend half the day on the phone trying to figure out medical bills, clean the house and so on and so forth. I am grateful for the distractions, but sometimes I just want to curl up in a ball.

Right from the start of finding out we were expecting, we began thinking of names. We came up with one for a girl and one for a boy pretty quick. It was fairly easy. But at the 12 week appointment when we found out there "might" be a problem with the heart, the names just didn't seem right anymore. At the appointment before Christmas, when the problems were very evident and we knew it was a girl, the previous name we had picked didn't fit. Thus the search began. It was a good thing to be able to focus on while we waited. The waiting was the worst.

 The meaning of the name was important to me. I wanted her name to have a deeper meaning, to remind me. I wanted it to connect with who she is. One of the meanings of Gracie is "God's gift". And Noel of course means "Christmas", or "Christ's birth". She was a gift from God. And a Christmas gift that we got to spend as much time with her as we did. It is a reminder to me of Christ. Of the how and why we will get to see her again. Because of His birth, His life and His sacrifice of pure love. Her name says it all. Her name brings me hope. What's in a name? Everything.

How silently the wondrous gift is given

Two Items of housekeeping for now and continuing posts:
1. As much as I love order, many of my posts about Gracie will probably not go in any sort of order. Just the order of my thoughts. They may be long, they may be short.
2. I will be posting pictures of Gracie. They are very precious to me, to Ty, to our girls. She was born before she had developed skin. Thus, she has a very red and somewhat sticky look. It could be disturbing to look at. I understand that. If you can't handle it, please don't feel like you have to. Please do not comment here or on facebook or to any of us in person about her looks if it is not nice. To us, to me, she is the most beautiful baby in the whole world. Nothing compares.


On to tonight's post.


It was the week before Christmas. I walked out of my midwifes office in shock. The miracle of life is just that, a miracle. So often we don't realize that, until something is wrong. Within moments of beginning the ultrasound, even I could tell something was wrong. What color of stocking I was going to buy to surprise Ty didn't matter anymore. In the agonizing moments as the midwife scanned the numerous cysts off the back of her head, all I wanted to know is if my baby had a heart beat. In that moment, nothing had sounded so beautiful.

Time seemed frozen as I drove home. I am not even sure how I made it home. Nothing made sense, nothing mattered. Once home, dinner was a hurried affair, we had a party to get to. Like I usually do so everyone survives meal time prep, I turned on Mo Tab on You Tube. Thankfully, Ty had already started dinner, so I sat with my head on the table as Katie and Kotah watched different songs. My mind was racing with unanswered questions, worries and fears. Just racing. Katie asked to watch the new Piano guys thing. I had heard about it, but as of then, we hadn't viewed it. I could have cared less. The screen was turned away from me and I didn't care much about it except the music made me stop. Maybe it wouldn't have meant that much if I had heard it before. Maybe it wouldn't have spoken to my soul if I hadn't just had my world rocked. But it was the right place, at the right time.

This holiday we celebrate every December is about more than just a babe in a manger. It is more than angels appearing to shepherds, a new star in the sky, three precious gifts, Santa Clause and whatnot. Jesus was born. Christmas is about His life, His love, His gift of Himself. Not just about God's gift of sending an newborn Savior, but the plan in its entirety. Jesus' ultimate sacrifice for us. Himself. We say it all the time, there has never been a greater gift, but that night it took on a whole new meaning for me. What greater gift could I have at that moment than knowing that no matter what would happen over the next few weeks, it would all be made right? Maybe not how I would plan it, but because of Christ, somehow, things would be okay.

Watch it. It doesn't need to be Christmas to focus on Him. Whatever is going on in your life, whether you know the outcome, or feel like you are lost in the darkness of uncertainty, because of Him, it will all be alright. That peace doesn't come with huge fanfare, but silently, in our hearts. What a wondrous gift it is.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PrLoWt2tfqg