Post by MA on Nov 19, 2005 20:40:52 GMT -5
I have found a good counsellor. She suggested writing down my feelings - validating my daughters lives and myself as their mother. Here is my first validation....
Dearest Mariah LaDawn,
I’m suppose to write out my feelings and thoughts…validate you as my daughter and validate myself as your Mother. I’m suppose to write out my dreams, hopes and plans for you. I’m suppose to express my loss and thoughts regarding your death.
I am your Mother. From the moment, I thought you were coming (which was a few days before I took the home pg test) – I was your Mother. I was so exited about being your Mother. I was instantly your Mother….the moment I knew you were coming, I was protective of you. I walked with more care. I watched more closely what I ate (although I am a fairly healthy person to begin with). I did everything that I could to nurture you. I bought better boots so that I wouldn’t fall or slip in the winter. I borrowed books from the library to read about the stages and what I could expect when I was pregnant with you.
Your Dad built you a cradle. Together, we sewed a quilt and prepared a room for you. We were so excited to have you come into our lives. It was a bit tough for your Dad at first as there would be lots of changes – but he became quite interested in my changing body and was very compassionate when I was sick in the mornings before work. He was looking forward to getting a baby backpack carrier to take you on walks.
We had no idea what the future held – but we were excited that we would have you to show the world to. We were excited about teaching you Spanish – we knew that you would learn Spanish and speak with a better accent than us. We wanted you to learn to play music – we talked about how you would have our hands…which meant that you would have long piano fingers. We believed that our world was something that we could share with you. We believed that we would provide you with a home where you were nurtured, loved, understood and developed. We prayed right after I did the pg test – we prayed for your little life. We prayed (I cried) that we would be good parents for you and that you would grow up knowing the blessing and love of God.
I dreamed of placing you in the cradle that your Father built for you. I dreamed of talking to you and holding you. I began to talk to you as I did different tasks. We didn’t tell our co-workers or friends of your existence for quite some time because it was fun to have a secret between your Father and me. We had prayed that you would come and it was fun to think of how our lives would change.
We told our families that you were coming on Christmas. There was a lot of excitement on DH's side of the family. My parents were not talking to us at that point and it wasn’t a very good situation. However, my extended family was excited when we said that you were coming at the family gathering that year. I was 12 weeks at that point. I went to the Dr. at 15 weeks and then we told our church and co-workers at 16 weeks. It was all so very exciting. Everyone was happy for us and we were so excited about how God was working in our lives – we were having a family. Then, at 20 weeks – we had an ultrasound in which the tech said that your heart was a bit larger than it should be. We weren’t too stressed – but thought that maybe the machine was old and that it wasn’t that easy to see millimeters when your heart was so small. Well, we know how things happened – there was so much prayer and fasting for you. There were so many who believed that you would be ok and that a miracle was happening within my womb and that you’d be fine. I had people tell me that everything would be ok. I believed that God would hear my fervent prayers and that you would be healed. I believed that you would come to our home.
I learned so much about hearts. I learned so much about politics and faith. I believed that God was working out your surgery. I believed that God was making a way for you – even when there seemed to be no hope. I believed that my faith and prayers were making a difference. I believed that you would be a miracle.
I learned so much about my heart – my brokenness, my ache, my agony. I was carrying a child who was dying. I prayed so hard. I woke up crying. I cried in the morning. I thought I’d stop eating – but your Father told me that I had to keep on going and keep on living so that you would be nourished and keep on growing. I did that. I did research. I sent emails. I believed that you would be a miracle – our miracle…our Mariah. (We had your name picked out even before we were married.) I spent time rocking with you – believing that our bonding time would give you strength. I believe that you heard me – I remember when you jumped after a loud horn went off at a hockey game….you could hear me. I believed that you kept on moving and living because you were a fighter. I waited for a moment when I didn’t feel your movements. I waited….for 8 weeks.
I wanted to give you a cultural experience. I wanted to show you places in the world that were unique. I wanted to allow you to gain independence and make your own decisions. I wanted to help you develop your own ideas and make your own way in life. I wanted to allow you to experience the hopes, fears, dreams and mysteries of living.
I remember covering us both with a blanket (the one that a good friend made) the night before your surgery. I believed that we were covered in prayer and that we were doing what was best for you. We believed that we had made decisions that would allow you to have good quality of life and that you would be able to live a decent life with us. We had so many decisions to make….all for you, our precious Mariah.
I remember waking up after the surgery and knowing instantly that you weren’t in my womb. I just knew. I remember your Father telling me that you had died. I think I threw up and then blacked out again. I remember seeing you for the first time. Oh Mariah – you were so sick…but you were my Baby. You were our ‘Little One’ and we did everything we could for you. You had blue eyes (from DH) and had my nose and blonde curly hair. You were a part of me and a part of your Dad. It was a miracle to see you – you were so much like us…yet, you were so sick.
I remember your Father praying and giving you back to God. I remember the sorrow in your Father’s eyes as he held you. We held you for such a short time. It is hard for me to remember you….I had just had a 5 hour surgery and I was in a lot of pain.
We were all by ourselves. We felt so alone. Where was God? Why didn’t he answer our prayers? Why didn’t He do a miracle for you? Why didn’t our faith ‘work’? We rationalized that you were sick and that you would be better in heaven. We told ourselves that we could have another child and that our hearts would always be broken by our loss of you – but that God knew best and decided that you would have too tough of a life. I spent hours crying. I spent days thinking of you. I spent every moment thinking of our future and trying to have hope that we would have another child. I felt alone – so alone…but I tried to trust God again and move forward. I tried to laugh again and believe that He had my best and your best in store. I believed that my faith would be strengthened and that we would be able to serve God in missions.
We moved to Calgary. We packed up your cradle and all the things that we had purchased (taking some things that had never been used back to the stores and explaining that you had died). We went to Hawaii for DH's brother's wedding. I said, “You just wait and see, they’ll have a living child before we do” (they have a one year old now).
That was a really tough time for me. Everything was in turmoil – we were moving and there was nothing secure for me to hold to. I tried to believe that we were doing what was best and that we would have the strength to keep on going.
I was so empty without you. I just wanted to be your Mother. I wanted to take care of you. I didn’t want to walk through the airports with your ashes in my backpack – I wanted to be carrying you in my arms. I wanted to be protecting you and buying you the cutest little outfits. (We were so excited when we found out 3 days before your surgery that you were a girl.) We didn’t want to bury you. We didn’t want to paint your grave marker. We just wanted to be with you. We wanted you to be born on July 16th – we did not want to be planting flowers on your grave that day.
I watched ‘The Baby Story’ and other child related shows on TV just wanting to cry. I wanted you to be with us. I wanted to be feeding you – loving you – and watching you grow. I have never had such pain as when my milk came in. Your Father went and bought a cabbage in the hopes that it would help. Nothing seemed to help. I just cried, cried and cried. My heart was broken.
Many of our friends told us that we would have a living child someday soon. We tried to have hope for the future. I made a memory book for you and believed that you would always be in my heart. Your Father gave me the ring that he had been saving for your birth for our 5th anniversary instead. He was so excited about seeing you enter the world. I was excited about having a family with him. We had waited 5 years and knew that we wanted a family together. I was your Mother from the moment I knew you were coming….
You are my first Daughter – Mariah LaDawn – I loved you from the moment I knew you.
Dearest Mariah LaDawn,
I’m suppose to write out my feelings and thoughts…validate you as my daughter and validate myself as your Mother. I’m suppose to write out my dreams, hopes and plans for you. I’m suppose to express my loss and thoughts regarding your death.
I am your Mother. From the moment, I thought you were coming (which was a few days before I took the home pg test) – I was your Mother. I was so exited about being your Mother. I was instantly your Mother….the moment I knew you were coming, I was protective of you. I walked with more care. I watched more closely what I ate (although I am a fairly healthy person to begin with). I did everything that I could to nurture you. I bought better boots so that I wouldn’t fall or slip in the winter. I borrowed books from the library to read about the stages and what I could expect when I was pregnant with you.
Your Dad built you a cradle. Together, we sewed a quilt and prepared a room for you. We were so excited to have you come into our lives. It was a bit tough for your Dad at first as there would be lots of changes – but he became quite interested in my changing body and was very compassionate when I was sick in the mornings before work. He was looking forward to getting a baby backpack carrier to take you on walks.
We had no idea what the future held – but we were excited that we would have you to show the world to. We were excited about teaching you Spanish – we knew that you would learn Spanish and speak with a better accent than us. We wanted you to learn to play music – we talked about how you would have our hands…which meant that you would have long piano fingers. We believed that our world was something that we could share with you. We believed that we would provide you with a home where you were nurtured, loved, understood and developed. We prayed right after I did the pg test – we prayed for your little life. We prayed (I cried) that we would be good parents for you and that you would grow up knowing the blessing and love of God.
I dreamed of placing you in the cradle that your Father built for you. I dreamed of talking to you and holding you. I began to talk to you as I did different tasks. We didn’t tell our co-workers or friends of your existence for quite some time because it was fun to have a secret between your Father and me. We had prayed that you would come and it was fun to think of how our lives would change.
We told our families that you were coming on Christmas. There was a lot of excitement on DH's side of the family. My parents were not talking to us at that point and it wasn’t a very good situation. However, my extended family was excited when we said that you were coming at the family gathering that year. I was 12 weeks at that point. I went to the Dr. at 15 weeks and then we told our church and co-workers at 16 weeks. It was all so very exciting. Everyone was happy for us and we were so excited about how God was working in our lives – we were having a family. Then, at 20 weeks – we had an ultrasound in which the tech said that your heart was a bit larger than it should be. We weren’t too stressed – but thought that maybe the machine was old and that it wasn’t that easy to see millimeters when your heart was so small. Well, we know how things happened – there was so much prayer and fasting for you. There were so many who believed that you would be ok and that a miracle was happening within my womb and that you’d be fine. I had people tell me that everything would be ok. I believed that God would hear my fervent prayers and that you would be healed. I believed that you would come to our home.
I learned so much about hearts. I learned so much about politics and faith. I believed that God was working out your surgery. I believed that God was making a way for you – even when there seemed to be no hope. I believed that my faith and prayers were making a difference. I believed that you would be a miracle.
I learned so much about my heart – my brokenness, my ache, my agony. I was carrying a child who was dying. I prayed so hard. I woke up crying. I cried in the morning. I thought I’d stop eating – but your Father told me that I had to keep on going and keep on living so that you would be nourished and keep on growing. I did that. I did research. I sent emails. I believed that you would be a miracle – our miracle…our Mariah. (We had your name picked out even before we were married.) I spent time rocking with you – believing that our bonding time would give you strength. I believe that you heard me – I remember when you jumped after a loud horn went off at a hockey game….you could hear me. I believed that you kept on moving and living because you were a fighter. I waited for a moment when I didn’t feel your movements. I waited….for 8 weeks.
I wanted to give you a cultural experience. I wanted to show you places in the world that were unique. I wanted to allow you to gain independence and make your own decisions. I wanted to help you develop your own ideas and make your own way in life. I wanted to allow you to experience the hopes, fears, dreams and mysteries of living.
I remember covering us both with a blanket (the one that a good friend made) the night before your surgery. I believed that we were covered in prayer and that we were doing what was best for you. We believed that we had made decisions that would allow you to have good quality of life and that you would be able to live a decent life with us. We had so many decisions to make….all for you, our precious Mariah.
I remember waking up after the surgery and knowing instantly that you weren’t in my womb. I just knew. I remember your Father telling me that you had died. I think I threw up and then blacked out again. I remember seeing you for the first time. Oh Mariah – you were so sick…but you were my Baby. You were our ‘Little One’ and we did everything we could for you. You had blue eyes (from DH) and had my nose and blonde curly hair. You were a part of me and a part of your Dad. It was a miracle to see you – you were so much like us…yet, you were so sick.
I remember your Father praying and giving you back to God. I remember the sorrow in your Father’s eyes as he held you. We held you for such a short time. It is hard for me to remember you….I had just had a 5 hour surgery and I was in a lot of pain.
We were all by ourselves. We felt so alone. Where was God? Why didn’t he answer our prayers? Why didn’t He do a miracle for you? Why didn’t our faith ‘work’? We rationalized that you were sick and that you would be better in heaven. We told ourselves that we could have another child and that our hearts would always be broken by our loss of you – but that God knew best and decided that you would have too tough of a life. I spent hours crying. I spent days thinking of you. I spent every moment thinking of our future and trying to have hope that we would have another child. I felt alone – so alone…but I tried to trust God again and move forward. I tried to laugh again and believe that He had my best and your best in store. I believed that my faith would be strengthened and that we would be able to serve God in missions.
We moved to Calgary. We packed up your cradle and all the things that we had purchased (taking some things that had never been used back to the stores and explaining that you had died). We went to Hawaii for DH's brother's wedding. I said, “You just wait and see, they’ll have a living child before we do” (they have a one year old now).
That was a really tough time for me. Everything was in turmoil – we were moving and there was nothing secure for me to hold to. I tried to believe that we were doing what was best and that we would have the strength to keep on going.
I was so empty without you. I just wanted to be your Mother. I wanted to take care of you. I didn’t want to walk through the airports with your ashes in my backpack – I wanted to be carrying you in my arms. I wanted to be protecting you and buying you the cutest little outfits. (We were so excited when we found out 3 days before your surgery that you were a girl.) We didn’t want to bury you. We didn’t want to paint your grave marker. We just wanted to be with you. We wanted you to be born on July 16th – we did not want to be planting flowers on your grave that day.
I watched ‘The Baby Story’ and other child related shows on TV just wanting to cry. I wanted you to be with us. I wanted to be feeding you – loving you – and watching you grow. I have never had such pain as when my milk came in. Your Father went and bought a cabbage in the hopes that it would help. Nothing seemed to help. I just cried, cried and cried. My heart was broken.
Many of our friends told us that we would have a living child someday soon. We tried to have hope for the future. I made a memory book for you and believed that you would always be in my heart. Your Father gave me the ring that he had been saving for your birth for our 5th anniversary instead. He was so excited about seeing you enter the world. I was excited about having a family with him. We had waited 5 years and knew that we wanted a family together. I was your Mother from the moment I knew you were coming….
You are my first Daughter – Mariah LaDawn – I loved you from the moment I knew you.
Im truly sorry for your loss 
