2 years ago...and she was 2

Ava at 6 months
Photo courtesy of Courtney Marler 

I don't like to share my blog with many...I feel like it's me, pouring out my heart and soul, my grief exposed...but sometimes, and somedays, I feel the need to share it with the public world. Maybe I am looking for people to "understand" my life, maybe I just want to help someone else who may be in a deep, dark place, or maybe I just want to make something very private, public....just for that minute. In any case, I'm sharing today...and to be forwarned, I'm fiesty. It's just one of those days and one of those moods I'm in. I had someone ask me the other day, "so what have you learned from all of this?". Other than literally wanting to punch them in the face (I mean, really people, COME ON), a lump came in my throat, and I offered a short, sarcastic answer. But it stuck with me....I'm learning all of the time. What I think (and feel) from one day, changes in the next. In July of 2010, I did a blog post of what I had learned 4 months after we lost Ava. Here it is:

* 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...

All of these things...still.....I am learning and dealing and coping everyday. What more have I learned? What I am learning is not easy to swallow by no means. I have learned that this trauma, and this missing, is a GIGANTIC mental battle for me. GIGANTIC. GIGANTIC. GIGANTIC..did I say GIGANTIC? I am stunned at what a toll this trauma has taken on me mentally. I am stunned at the lingering sorrow and pain two years later. I am learning everyday that time does NOT heal all wounds. I have learned I will ALWAYS miss her everyday and in every moment, no matter how happy I feel or no matter what is going in my life. She is ALWAYS missing from it.  I have learned "healing" is different when you have seen your angelic, perfect, gorgeous, full-of-life, first born gasping for breath, eyes full of fear right in your very arms. Sure, I am healing. As much as someone whose broken heart struggles to beat on the outside of my body can heal.


I have learned that even still, when people tell me or ask if I am having a "good" day, I want to yell and scream at them and tell them "NO", none of my days are good. I lost my firstborn, don't you know? I have "ok" days, and "bad" days...not "good" ones. And sometimes, yes, sometimes, I call my days "TRIUMPHANT". Enjoying myself, having fun....none of those things are your run of the mill emotions you experience easily after your daughters death. They are hard earned rewards for having HOPE. 


I have learned I can live on little to no sleep. Re-living the trauma of that horrific night replays in my head everyday, all of the time, and especially when I lay my head to sleep in HER bed. 
I have learned that I feel so very fragile--like I am being held together by Scotch tape and could come apart at any moment. 


I am learning that I have to be cautious of comparing my life to other people.I remember right after we lost Ava, being truly unable to manage and cope with the pain. I was intensely grateful for the people around me who were in a "better" place. If we all lived in a state of pain and anguish such as ours was, we would all be helpless. I've learned to be nice to people, because you never know their story. I still sometimes struggle with feeling envious of the lives of others, that they don't have to live everyday of their life with this pain....but of course, since then, I have also learned that the very people who were so willing to serve us in our pain, were in just as dark of a place as we were at one time in their past. It is difficult for me to not resent people who haven't lost a child and who can sleep without the trauma. Very difficult. When people talk to me about how "bad" things are for them, I want to tell them, "Do you know how bad things can really be?". But then again, I also know that just because I lost one child, doesn't make me exempt from anyother "bad" things happening in my life. As "bad" as things are, they can always be worse. Always. 


I have learned people are genuinely good people and they do care, even if they don't know what to say or do. Sometimes, I want to reach through the computer and slap people into reality. 


I have learned that somedays, and sometimes, I don't have much more room for any more sadness than what I deal with daily. It's just the way it is. I have learned what a deep, personal trial this is, despite it being very public. 


I have learned that when you loose your little girl, you understand what is really important, without understanding life at all. 


I have learned how powerful fear is and how slippery hope is. The pain can hit me at any moment, for any reason. The fact that I have to live each day without her is reason enough. 


I have learned that when you loose your little girl, it defines you. But you wouldn't want it NOT to. Somedays, the only thing I want people to know about me, or remember is that I lost my little girl. Nothing more. 


I've learned that I am amazed that the world keeps turning. Aren't you? With all the heartache and suffering, it is astonishing that any of us get out of bed in the morning, yet we do. I've learned that's incredible. And I truly believe most of us are trying to do our best. 


I live my life with a scratched record repeating over and over, "I can't believe my little girl is gone. I can't believe my little girl is gone". 

"The most beautiful people we have know are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen." -Elizabeth Kobler-Ros

I hope to be truly beautiful someday. 


I'm not in the mood for pep talks right now. (Told you I was feisty) That's part of it...anger, bitterness, confusion, unfairness.....It's a daily battle. 


I know I am not perfect. I am not all-knowing and wise just because of that we've been through, but I hope one day I can be in a "better" place and help someone in their time of need. Tables do turn.  We all rely on eachother. We have to. 


I know that if your child doesn't die before you--life is still hard. I don't ever plan on figuring it all out. 

When you loose your little girl

We are fast approaching the 2 year mark of Ava's angel anniversary. I don't know what to do when I grieve, except to write about it...sometimes I see things others have wrote, and it is literally like they are writing from my brain. This, I took from another blogger who lost her 2 year old daughter as well...I changed a few words in it, but for the most part, it's what she wrote.

When you loose your little girl

When you loose your little girl and you think you are starting to heal--you are. You are healing. As much as someone whose broken heart struggles to beat on the outside of their body can heal. Oh, and just a tad bit of information, "time" doesn't heal all wounds...hold your dying child in your arms and tell me it does...really?

But when you loose your little girl, the pain can hit you out of the blue at anytime, for any reason. The fact that you live each day without her is reason enough.

And when you loose your little girl, it defines you. But you wouldn't want it NOT to. Sometimes, the only thing I want people to know about me is that my daughter died. Nothing more!

When you loose your little girl, you live in a dream world. Aware that you are "doing better", maybe even thriving, but constantly aware that she is not there.

The good times aren't so much "good" as they are triumphant. Because enjoying yourself and having fun....those aren't your run of the mill emotions you experience easily after your daughter's death. They are hard earned rewards for having HOPE.

When you loose your little girl, you understand what is really important in life without understanding life at all.

When you loose your little girl, you don't fear or fight getting older. You embrace it and have the ultimate gift to look forwards to in the next life--while simultaneously wondering and struggling with living your everyday life on this earth and how you will possibly make it through.

But even if our daughter doesn't die before you--life is still hard. I don't plan on ever figuring it out. But I plan on continually improving through the love of God, love of others, and love of self, and strengthening my balancing act skills so that I'm able to connect with my daughter in another world without falling off the tightrope in this one. That's all.

Christmas 2011

Well, this post will be full of pictures, mainly because I am trying to catch up on everything. :) We had a great Christmas (considering everything in our life is so bittersweet without our sweet Ava). We miss Ava, and especially during the holiday's. I wonder what she would be like at 4. Christmas with a 4 year old is so magical I am sure. All we can do is soak it all in with Aynslee and try our best to hide the pain and tears for her....and give her the most magical Christmas a one year old can have. Enjoy the pictures!!!

It was the perfect day for the MJ Christmas parade. Aynslee enjoyed watching all the floats and it was actually in the lower 60's so the weather was GREAT!!! Maybe we will try a float next year!

Notice the Ava bow and ribbon on the back of Glen Hamblen's beloved "baby". :)

 Jim's parent's wanted to advertise for the run in March.

Aynslee just chillin' at Houston's birthday party.

21 weeks and getting bigger. :)

 These pictures were taken at Nana's and Pa's house. Aynslee had so much fun with her cousins. I can see so much of little Ava in these pictures. I think it was the way I fixed her hair?? Maybe? I don't know. But I love this smile, and those sweet cheeks.

Aynslee really, really, got into delivering presents.
 She didn't care what was inside, she just wanted to pass them out. 

She insisted that these chairs were "mine"....even though neither of them actually were "hers". LOL

And here are some pictures of Christmas Eve night...Terry and his family, and The Stemmer family all came over...and guess what? Santa even made a surprise visit on his busiest night of the year!

Santa brought Aynslee a "gucker" and she was so happy. :) 

 If you ask Aynslee what "hoho" brought her, she will say, " A gucker". Not toys, but a sucker. Hey, she is actually right, huh?

Here are some pictures of the kids decorating cookies for Santa and eating cupcakes for Jesus' birthday. We started the tradition of having a birthday party for Jesus the night before His birthday, in hopes that we can teach our young children what Christmas is all about.

And here are some pictures of Christmas morning and Christmas day. Aynslee got so much stuff, she had no idea what to do. :)

All of Aynslee's toys from Santa...spoiled YES! Wouldn't do it ANY.OTHER.WAY!

Our sweet family...we NEVER leave Ava out of anything...I mean
should we? Really? NO! 

LOVED her "real" grocery cart. 

She was actually scared...yes scared, of her choo choo train. 

Really starting to get into this opening presents thing. :)

She loves to draw! Maybe a picasso on our hands? 

Again, this is NOT hers...it's Addison's. We had a battle over this
...she lost. :)

take the time...

I don't care if your plates match. You don't need to bake. Paper banners aren't necessary. Please though...this November...take a moment, an extra moment, to reach out and grab your babies, or your partner, or your best friend. Find that person...find lots of people...who need to be told how much they mean to you. And if you can't say it in words, say it while sitting beside them and watching the sunlight hit their hair while you plan tomorrows. Say it in laughter. Or in silence. Just spend some time and give thanks. Cherish your loved ones. Every minute you have. That's all. 

understanding?

I know...it's been way too long and I have contemplated on deleting the blog...but first, I want to have it printed. I feel like it has been my open journal for over a year now. I found this poem and just wanted to share...it is so true, yet so sad it has to be this way. Sometimes, others add to your pain without meaning to....

So You Want to Understand?

You say to me, "It's been a year,

When will your grieving end?

Why can't you be like once you were,

my smiling and happy friend?"

If you really want an answer,

though I wonder if you do,

I'll take you deep inside me

where sadness dims the view.

First, my friend, for your sake,

come close and take my hand,

and we will pray that what I share,

you won't ever have to understand.

The "me" you once knew is no more,

it died right with my child,

a voice was stilled forever,

yet the echo drives me wild.

You say you lost Aunt Bertha,

so you have known death too,

Aunt Bertha, however, was not your child,

and she was 80, not 2.

I barely survived those first few months,

coping was a dreadful task,

I'd tell you I was doing fine

while sobbing behind my mask.

If I talked about my precious child

you turned away in fear,

you couldn't stand to see me cry,

nor would you share my tear.

I wanted you to speak of her,

please, won't you say her name?

But you pretended she never was,

so she died over and over again.

Oh, I see that you're uncomfortable,

you no longer want my hand,

so as it was before we talked, my friend,

you don't want to understand.

~Author Unknown

Tuga the Sea Turtle

I know...I know...I'm soooo behind in blogging. It is labor day weekend and my last post was memorial day weekend...seriously? Well, I have a few drafts I will be editing and putting in a little later. I have just been so busy, and blogging falls to the waist side.

On with my story~ the other night, before we went camping for the weekend, tuga the sea turtle episode came on t.v. Aynslee loves "tuduls" so she was excited....but for me, I have been missing my sweet Ava here lately and this was just another reminder of something that she absolutely loved and is not here to enjoy. Tuga the Sea Turtle....one of her favorite episodes on Diego. I stopped, and I remembered. Her last day on this earth, at the zoo, she wanted to ride the tiger. Half way through the carousel, she spotted a sea turtle and said, "mama, I wanna ride tuga the leatherback sea turtle". haha.....what a little vocabulary for a 27 month old. huh? Smart little cookie! Anyways, I told her we had to stay on the tiger, and that maybe we could come back later and ride tuga, or maybe the "next time". Well, there was no "next time", and why didn't I just ride it twice and let her ride tuga I will never know. Another regret that I will hold on too forever.
She would run into the living room...little feet pattering down the hall...."mama, mama, tuga's on". In this little episode, I see so much...the ordinary moments of a "normal" day. Oh my love for that girl. I sure do miss you sweet Ava. I hope in Heaven, you get to see lots of leatherback sea turtles  "tuga's".