Gracie Belle

It finally arrived.

I seriously doubt anyone at all still checks this thing. I sure don't come here much anymore. But I wanted to post a picture of her beautiful stone. I don't know if it's too tiny to read but it says,

Ray
Sleep in Heavenly Peace
Gracie Belle
Jan 9 2012-Jan 11 2012
Beloved daughter of Emily and Kendall

We love it.

In other news,

We are doing really well. Ups and downs for sure but for the most part things are stable. Every now and then, I will feel like the wind was knocked out of me, but we carry on.

I am working on a video of Gracie. When I finish it, hopefully I will be able to post it. We shall see.

I think I am internet fatigued because I just sent a bunch of e-mails and did some family website postings so I am fairly unmotivated to write much right now. Sorry, you are all just random victims of task order.

Also,
my oldest monkey, (who was fairly unhappy with mom and dad tonight), wrote us letters.

"Dear Mom,
You are doomed."

"Dear Dad,
Perhaps you are stupid."

Lovely, isn't he?

And We're Back.

It's been a rough couple of weeks. I'm not going to lie.

A couple of week ago I attended the funeral of the sweetest four year old boy that ever lived.

It was horrible. And the public part of me wants to write that I am glad he is at peace and the service was beautiful. And the service WAS beautiful but it was horrible. I felt like I was watching myself. My sweet friend was a mess and shaking and sobbing and I felt every sob rack through my heart.

These little ones.To be given a taste of heaven and then having it torn away. It's excruciating.

I wasn't going to go to the cemetery because honestly I didn't know if I had any more than the service in me. But we went. And I stood behind the casket and I could see my friend's face. And she had this stare. This stare I know intimately. The same absent, numb, stare on my face at Gracie's funeral.

And it broke my heart and it brought back waves and waves of feelings and memories that I can't say I care to relive. It is a wonder mothers can even walk at their child's funeral. It is a wonder our hearts can keep beating at all.

They had made these little rubber bracelets that said, "Angels for Atticus" on them. And I wore mine for days after. I went to Wal-Mart and all I could think was. They don't even know. They don't even know that an amazing little boy is gone. Missing from this Earth. And it was all I could do to push my cart down the aisle and not sob like a lunatic for some person's "people at Wal-Mart" photo montage.

The feeling of pain and loss isn't as intense for me as it was at first. But it is always there, stumbling around in the background.

When I braid my niece's hair, I wonder what Gracie's hair would have been like. Would it have been long enough for a ridiculous looking tiny little hair spike by now? Would it have stayed as dark as it was?

I don't even look at the girl's clothing section.

When I think about going to my boy's sporting events, (and I'll be honest I haven't really gone much at all), I sometimes feel resentment that I won't be going to any dance recitals. Won't be searching etsy for the cutest tutus.

I meet new people now and they don't even know. And right now I don't even tell them because I don't like the way it puts them off. Makes them frown and apologize. I don't want others to feel sad. I feel sad enough.

My hope chest is full of little pink things and smells and memories and I can't even bear to open it. I can barely stand that it is even in my room sometimes.

There is always a little baby girl that sticks her head up over the pews at church and I have to look away. I avoid baby blessings like the plague. It's hard to hear a blessing full of life and exciting expectation when I don't get to expect anything.


Okay. Sorry. Sometimes I get carried away but it feels good to just get it out sometimes. I do expect things. Great things. I know I will get to be with my little Belles again someday. I cannot wait for that day. Death is not such a scary thing to me now. I know I have my little baby girl just waiting there for me and that is a wonderful and peaceful thing to know.

I have an amazing husband who is STILL carrying bits and pieces of my heart for me. He is a rock and I sometimes wonder if I deserve someone so good and kind.

My monkeys are still crazy and probably will always be. I was at the grocery store today and I had just a few things left to get and I told the boys, "We're almost done. We're almost at the checkout. Just a few more minutes." And then I realized I was repeating to myself over and over and over, "We're almost done. We're almost there." Insane Mother aisle 8.

James prays that we can all be with Gracie again someday. Harrison prays that she will come back. Bennett just snuggles. I thank the Lord EVERY day for giving me that little boy. I believe He knew that I would need a little baby to love on. Every now and then I sneak into his room at night and pull him out of his crib just so I can rock him. It is all I can do to ease the ache in my heart sometimes.

Anyway. And last post I was telling you to check my other blog. Haha. Someday.

Room with a View

I haven't felt like there has been much to say lately. I had a little bit of a blue period which I wasn't entirely prepared for. I don't know, she passed and I was sad and it was a slap in the face but then I felt peace and closure and I thought, maybe I've survived this. Maybe I'm okay. And then I just sort of slipped. Partly me but mostly my husband and good friends kept me from slipping too deep.

I have one friend who for whatever reason is just acutely aware of me and my needs. (and lies).

a few weeks back I was supposed to be somewhere and I just told her I was tired/not feeling well/busy ALL at the same time so I wasn't going and she said, "me too. We should probably go to dinner and a movie instead."

And we did. And it pulled me back a little closer to the surface. And today I am good again. I guess that's how it will be. Ups and downs. I know people have told me that but for whatever reason I like to think I don't belong to THAT club. That's for OTHER people.

But maybe not.

But to the point....

Here is Gracie's place. Isn't it beautiful. In the spring Wildflowers are just EVERYWHERE. It is magical.

This is a headstone I really really wanted to replicate but we are finding it difficult to find a stone cutter that won't charge A LOT. We'll figure it out someday I guess.You can see Gracie's plot in the background with the pink flowers. I love this headstone because it is tiny and beautiful. At the bottom it says "Weep not papa and mama for me for I am in heaven waiting for thee" I love it. 

This is her spot. In the background you can see a little bell. My boys call it her door bell and when we go visit we ring the bell to tell her we're here and then she comes to be with us. At first it was kind of just a special story to tell the boys but I don't know. I ring it when I am alone and I can tell you that I know I have felt her spirit very close. A bell for our Belle.

I plan on continuing to write on here for thoughts on Gracie and this experience but I think I am going to try to start writing on my old blog again. www.ejray.blogspot.com I have three crazy monkeys disguised as boys to think of after all.

Love, Emma

Brave Like Gracie

I've been into reading lately. Little portable escape routes.

But reading pre-Gracie and reading post-Gracie feels different to me. Like I understand something there that I didn't before.

I love to write. It is a hobby and it helps me escape a little. But I've always struggled with protagonists. Specifically protagonists in tough situations. I could just never really get behind them emotionally. For example, in a lot of these hero stories, Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, pick your poison, I would read about these protagonists who were the "key" to saving whatever world they had to save.

They were the only ones who could do it. And to me, I was like "come on! Buck up Harry! YOU are the chosen one so just do it!"

And when they were frustrated or reluctant I always thought, Well geez. It's for the greater good you know. Pull it together.

Call me insensitive. Call me immature. I probably was both and more.

But I feel like I get it now.

I was the chosen one. I was chosen to be Gracie's mother, to be the vessel that got her here and back to her Father in Heaven. And I can say that many times I didn't want to be. I didn't want to carry that ring to Mordor.

I would sometimes lay there at night with my husband and throw a tantrum like a five year old and just keep saying, "I don't want to do this. I don't want to be this. I don't want to do this!"

Sometimes I would hope I would miscarry. They told me every dang appointment I was going to. Please, just end it, I thought. Or can't this be happening to anyone else? ANYONE else?

But it wasn't. It was me. It was happening to me. It was my "quest".

And now she's safe and sound and things are returning to that quiet stability I once knew. And I feel different about life. I feel older, sure, but I feel stronger. I feel sad, but I feel great hope.

I guess I can see now that I am the protagonist of my story. And I will get discouraged and I will get beaten down but I feel like I can be brave now, something I had never really felt before.

The Benefits of the Doubted

Sometimes I can't sleep at night.

Last night was one of those nights. I wasn't having a particularly hard night or anything I was just restless. I think My husband was too because he was silent as the grave. Whenever he is silent, he is awake. It's the snoring that lets me know he's asleep. (and in his defense it isn't snoring, it's just breathing but I need silence to sleep dangit! Can't he just not breathe?)

But anyway. I was laying there and my thoughts were drifting all over and back and I began to wonder why. The question of all questions. I don't really ask it in a "WHY??????-insert tears-" kind of way anymore. I just wonder why.

What was the purpose? What was the point?

Well I know, for Gracie, at least she needed to come here and get a body and become part of our family. But for me. Why for me?

And I don't think I know the complete why, or the rippling effects she will have in the years to come but I do think I have learned one thing.

Everyone has hard things.

It's simple, obvious even, but I think we forget. We all know... but we forget.

I am now an advocate for the doubted and am constantly fighting for their benefit.

Everyone, everywhere gets the benefit of the doubt from me. Whether it is someone who said something seemingly rude or someone who cuts me off in traffic, they are now recipients of my benefit.

I can tell you this though. There is nothing like a personal tragedy to bring people out of the woodwork who want to share their tragedy with you and give you the beautiful gift of empathy. EVERYONE has hard things. EVERYONE.

Most people just don't wear a name tag that says, My name is Veronica and I am currently struggling with [blank], the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life.

I cannot even count the number of times I was driving home from a doctor's appt in  Dallas just trying to keep a grip on the edge of the precipice I was hanging from. I was distracted. Sometimes tears were blurring my eyes. Yes there are road rage jerks out there, but I like to think that often times there are people like me. Just hanging on.

I am not sure why I wrote this. I am debating whether or not I should even post it. But I probably will. Maybe everyone that reads it will remember it and be a little kinder, a little softer to others. And I think that would be good.  

People Who Don't Know

My phone just rang from our bank's fraud prevention department because I just paid all the medical bills. Guess it's good to know they are aware.

I was on the phone with our insurance for a while and they were so confused about billing and neo natal services and we finally whittled it down. She said she was going to have to forward me to something something management. Apparently at least at this hospital, as long as your baby leaves with you their costs just go on your bill. If they stay in the NICU then they get their own bill.

It was really frustrating because I kept getting put on hold and shuffled and I would try to cut in and explain and then some obnoxious music would cut me off.  I don't know why there was such great confusion but there was.
And the lady was finally like "How long was your baby in the hospital after you left?"

And I said, "She wasn't."

And she said, "It has her listed her as having been in the NICU with blah blah blah staff."

And I said, "She did have a NICU nurse but she died so really, she left before I left."

Silence.

Shuts them up every time.

And it's weird. Because most of the time I am so grateful to come across people who don't know. I don't have to talk about her. I don't have the identity of girl-who-lost-her-baby. And then sometimes I just have this inexpressible urge for people to know.

Like the guy at the tire shop or a random lady I'm chatting with at the park. Or on a plane.

Which brings me to another story.

I recently went to Utah to visit one of my best friends for a little down time.

On the flight there, there was a woman sitting next to me and we made small talk for a second and then I got out my book and she reclined to sleep. I looked down at my locket that has pictures of Gracie in it and I turned to her and said, "Can I ask you a weird question?"

She said, ".......Yes"

me "You asked me just now how many kids I had and I said three boys. I actually had a little girl too, but I didn't mention her because she died.  But what I am always wondering is would you, as an objective stranger feel uncomfortable if I had said that or would you be fine? I just don't know what to say to people."

By her expression think I pretty much shocked her pants off.

"No, it's fine. It's sad, but I don't mind that you told me."

I told her a little of the story and showed her the pictures in my locket and then said thanks and went back to reading.

And then she starts crying. I mean crying. For like ten minutes. I apologized and she said, "no, no it's fine it's just touching and a little sad"

So. What do I learn from this? Maybe don't mention her??? Or maybe don't break out the pictures? I really don't know. But most of all I think I learned that there are still so many good caring people in this world and I'm really touched that she, a total stranger, would cry for me and my baby.

And to all of you readers who have cried with me too, friends and strangers a like, I'm so so grateful for you too.