Alliteration Appointment

So delivery is scheduled for the ninth at noon. I was sitting there at my doctor's desk while he was on the phone with the hospital and he puts his hand over the mouthpiece and says "How about the ninth at noon?"

First I want to explain that at all of these many appointments it has been all I can do to only be halfway there. While doctors have been describing horrible procedueres or outcomes or facts, my husband listens intently and asks questions and I just nod but find myself staring out the window at a pair of hawks chasing each other through the city. Or as a doctor is talking to me I start wondering what type of eye shadow she has because I really like the color but she has much lighter skin so would it look as good on me?

It's either that or I have to pinch my arm to keep from crying. I switch back and forth. I have the bruises on my arm to prove it.

Anyway. Back to the story, my doctor covers the mouth piece and says, "the ninth at noon?"

The thoughts that go through my head are as follows:
- I like the way the n's sound together. 'N'inth at 'N'oon.
-My cell phone minutes roll over on the ninth which is kind of irrelevant because I ignore most phone calls these days.
-Doesn't it feel strange to be scheduling the death of your child? The ninth at noon? Sounds good. Let me just pencil it in my calendar.

Anyway. That's the plan unless Gracie Belle has her own plan.


We did have a good Christmas. The boys were so much fun. And we had our own little Christmas miracle for Gracie.

We (and when I say we, I mean my mom), has been tirelessly going to cemetaries to find a place for little Belles. No matter what day she went it always rained. Appropriately I guess. All of the cemeteries were too big, or too expensive, or on a busy busy road, or just wrong. And then we found this little cemetary close to us. It's really old and a little overgrown but on a hill on a quiet country road and it feels just like a cemetary should feel.

My mom inquired about it and the owner said the cemetary was full and he apologized but there was nothing to do about it.

He clearly didn't know my mom. She hand wrote him a letter explaining the situation and I kid you not said, "She is just a little thing, we promise she will be no trouble at all." Wasn't there a tiny little spot we could fit her in?

On Christmas Eve he called and said they found a little place for her with this really old family (1800's) who had five infants that died at birth and they could put her with them.

I know this might sound morbid but it truly was our Christmas miracle to have the peace that she would have a place to lay and not only that but she would have five little friends to be with.

My dad is building her a little coffin with her name engraved on it and beneath it is the phrase, "Sleep in Heavenly Peace". For Kendall and I "Silent Night" has kind of become her song and though we can't really sing it right now without tears it brings us peace and is more like a lullaby than anything.

The coffin is lined with the softest softest material and we are going to fill the bottom with pink rose heads so she can lay on a bed of roses.

I think we will have a little funeral at our church before, but the burial is probably just going to be immediate family.

Another interesting thing about the cemetary is you have the option to dig the grave yourself.
Kendall wants to. And while I thought it was odd at first, it is more meaningful now to be able to prepare a little place for her with his own hands and heart.

Thanks to everyone for prayers and kind notes and thoughts. Everyone has hard things and I appreciate those who take the time to think of us while we are going through one of ours.