Aynslee a.k.a. Ava's baby siser

Ava wearing her "big sister" shirt. (I put on the shirt...she dressed the rest). 

Ava kissing her "baby siser"!

Jim & I talked about the mixed feelings that went with Aynslee not knowing Ava. She was not here when Ava was here. Ava very much loved her baby sister, anticipated her arrival, singing "I'm gonna be a big siser", wanting to sleep beside my tummy...ON my tummy so that she could be close to Aynslee. Did Ava know that week? Is that why she wanted to sleep so close to her baby sister? Did she know in a few short days, her daddy and I would lay in a bed with her as she went to Heaven...with her baby sister in my tummy kicking and hugging her from inside my belly? Did. She. Know??? They had not gotten the chance to learn about one another, to play dolls, to fight, to share secrets.  It broke our heart to know those things could never be, BUT she wouldn't have to grow up with the missing that Jim and I felt...or would she? 

I have some vague notion that one day, when Aynslee is possibly nine, or twelve, she would come to me and say “So, Mom.  This Ava person?  Tell me about her.”  And I would sit down and tell her about a sister she had...sweet big sister Ava. I’d  show her the special things. Perhaps open those creaky chester drawers and pull out some faded dresses, her shoes, some old pictures. And how, against all I believed possible, we survived losing her.  Maybe she’d sit quietly and absorb and feel a pain of missing she may not have had before. I don’t really know but the hazy reel played something like that.

It still scares me.  I don’t want Aynslee to miss Ava...bad...like we do. I don’t want a day where she cries, I mean really cries, for the yearning of her big sister.  I don’t want to have to explain where she went, and why. I don’t even know why.   I feel so guilty that she will grow up with even a little bit of the wishing and wondering that we carry.  I see her alone and it makes my heart hurt.  To look at her, to see how very, very much she resembles Ava, to imagine two of them – so similar – side by side.  My heart hurts all over again.  To think of my own life, growing up with a constant playmate, a confidant, almost a part of my self, called sister...my best friend...

There is a place in my grief that belongs to Aynslee alone, and some days it’s just so much bigger than the rest.

The "missing"

On such a "normal" night..sunglasses, kicks, pull up, watching t.v....the messy room. i.miss.this.

The last video of her...playing with her much loved "bitty baby". 

I struggle to explain why some days I float, and some days I don’t.   Today,  for no definable reason, the yearning and the missing cloud the normalcy of a regular summer day that would have looked something like this: 

• Wake early
• breakfast
• watch t.v./get dressed
• go swimming (pool, lake, whatever)
• McDonalds drive thru
• Dinner
• Bed

But, from the inside, filtered through hazey grief, my day looks this:

I’ve not even opened my eyes but I can feel the clouds...I’m already missing and I remember the last video of her, the one of her playing with bitty baby...and it reminds me how she will never know motherhood

and

I disbelieve, still, while I start my coffee and wonder how the making of coffee and breakfast for just me can leave me feeling so empty

and

a little while later...I walk down the hall and I catch a glimpse of her room and I wish it were messy...and the t.v  was on...Dora, Kai Lan, Mickey Mouse clubhouse... 

and

then I pick Aynslee up...give her a big kiss.....but I can only think about the lovely princess who isn’t on my other hip

and

who isn’t ordering her own hamburger and apple juice and all I want to do is tell the cashier that today, just like yesterday and tomorrow,

I am missing my sweet Ava.

and

I eat dinner...with one chair empty...looking at the crumbs on a pink placemat...and I miss. 

and 

I lay one child down to sleep instead of two... I close my eyes...realizing I should never have to breath without my sweet girl...but I do, and I miss...in all the corners of my soul...

I am missing my sweet Ava. 

Somewhere over the rainbow

The double rainbow seen by friends when we were saying our goodbye's to Ava on 3/21/10.

I am waking up to your footsteps on the floor.   Making cinnamon rolls for breakfast.   Putting bows in your hair.   Making strawberry milk.      Buying things that sparkle.      Taking you to dance.    Showing you off.    Watching you swim.     Hearing you sing.    Taking your pictures.     Blue m&m's.      Laughing at your laugh.     Princesses. Reading "Big Sister, Little Sister".    Kissing you goodnight.    Breathing you in.      Marveling.   Adoring.   Expecting a tomorrow. 

Somewhere over the rainbow.

fear(less)

"Ava's silly face" as she called it...oh how i miss this!

No one ever told me about the fear that comes with grief.  It is a terror beyond anything I have ever known.  The moments of that night....waking up with Ava, knowing instantly that we might lose her, then waiting for 48 hours at the hospital until we did… and then facing a lifetime without her.   I am scared...so very scared.  I hear myself saying “I’m just so scared that this is real“.   We are actually living our worst nightmare! 

“You never recover from the loss of a child“.  I hear that oh so much from so many who have lost. To my newly grieving, terrified self, those words are sometimes unbearable.  I can’t fathom never recovering!   But I also can’t fathom life ever being any different.  So, I’ve  been wondering...what is  “recovered”?  What does that even mean?  That you should return to the griefless, untouched self you once were?  Well of course you don’t!  How can you hold your lifeless, adored, child and cry and beg God to give her back and not walk away changed? I have to  face overwhelming sadness throughout my every day and have to learn to incorporate it into a life that doesn’t like to pause...a world that didn't pause for my loss.  Of course I am different.  But, from what I can see now, I come from a place of total devastation, and somehow find a way to open my eyes, breath,  and face another day without my beautiful baby girl. Recovered?  I don’t know...if that is possible...   Altered?  Without doubt.

 It isn’t enough to just remember Ava with smiles and fond memories.   I need the tears.

I'm still learning

Ellie and Ava

Some of the things I have learned so far through this horrible grief journey: 

* Grief is hard work! Nearly all my energy is consumed by this thing called "grief". I have little energy for anything else. 

* Life is not fair!!!

*Bad things happen to good people.

*It’s up to me to make a decision to become better, not bitter.

*Everything I have experienced in this life has had an impact on me.

*My life is a work in progress.

*I need to talk about Ava. It keeps her memory alive.

*It’s o.k. to be mad at God, - God can handle it. He is a bereaved parent too, so He truly understands my pain and sorrow.

*God knows how long you will live even before you are born. (there is a "master plan")

*How great Heaven must be! 

*I can love my child as much in death as I loved her in life. 

*I should share my experience, strength, and hope with other bereaved parents. 

* Life can change in a heartbeat. 

*I have very little control over events in this world.

*It simply takes too much energy just to dress in the morning, to make the simple decision to eat, to stifle tears in public, and to keep my anger from inappropriately erupting...

So my journey continues....I will let you know when I can add to this list.