Paizley's Gift

You know that moment when you finally break down from something you’ve been trying to stay strong about for a really long time? That moment when the floodgates can no longer hold all of the emotions that pound behind it and they finally just burst open? I let that gate fall down today when Ryan text me that he is moving back to Texas. We’ve been broken up and moving on for seven months now and I have not cried once. I have not had one of those nights where I have lay in bed and cried myself to sleep, not one single night. I’ve never been overly emotional about us no longer being together, much to Ryan’s disappointment. Leaving Ryan was probably the best decision I have ever made. But when I got that text, it all let loose.

Most of it was guilt. I feel a tremendous amount of guilt for the manor in which I forced Ryan out. Yes, I allowed him to stay until he found a place to lay his head at night, but I sent him packing with next to nothing. I sent him on his way in a fit of bitterness and in the meantime, arranged my home how I had always imagined it would be had I not married Ryan and had I not been forced to live with his terrible sense of decorating. Here I was, having acquired my pie in the sky, content, happy, and free for the first time in three years. I. Was. Me. Meanwhile, Ryan, being the eternal pessimist that he is, struggled and wallowed and rebelled, which is how he spent most of our relationship, so no surprise there. Only, I wasn’t there to dig him out this time. I held a secret hole in my heart for Riley though, one in which I could not let myself succumb to. I made the decision that I should probably let him go, thinking it would be better for him and for me.

Upon coming back to the house several times to grab his things, Ryan literally begged me to give to him some various kitchen supplies including pots and pans, HIS knives, silverware and some of HIS utensils. I remember feeling sorry for the first time for what I had done, remembering in my mind that the trash cans in the house in which I was still using were his from before we got together and he never once asked for those back. They are still in my house to this moment. I think about all the things I take for granted when I am settled into a home: Saran wrap, garbage bags, nice towels, sheets, a bed, forks and knives, toothpaste, Excedrin… and I think about the fact that he had none of those things and had to swallow his pride and ask for a few. I think about how he asked me if I could put some of the things from the medicine cabinet in a bag for him to pick up and I left it outside my front door, not wanting to see him. I think about how I made him get rid of a lot of things that he had on his own because they were worn, ugly, and old or mostly not to my liking, and so when I kicked him out and only allowed him to take what was his, he had little to bring and call his own. I feel bad.

Though he didn’t swallow his pride when he was drunk, belligerent and calling me a cunt at the lightrail station the night I realized I was finally going to end it.  He didn’t think about my wants or needs when he was sending naked pictures of himself to another woman. He wasn’t feeling bad when he was making every attempt to get her to meet him to seal the deal and really cheat on me. Nor did he swallow his pride and fess up when I caught him red handed; not until he knew he couldn’t convince me of his lies. He never felt bad when he had me paying all of our bills and was asking to go to Vegas in the same breath he was telling me he couldn’t find a job to save his life.

I guess it really gets to me that I am sad for him. I am so torn because part of me wants to have some compassion for his situation and the fact that he has hit rock bottom. The other half of me thinks it serves him right for being a selfish, uncaring, rude, negative asshole. The worst part is that he will be leaving Riley and no matter how much dislike I have for Ryan and the way he treated me as his wife, there will always be sadness in me for the fact that he will have to be away from the number one person in his life.

So today is a sad day indeed. I miss my little Riley so very much and am second-guessing my decision to quietly step out of his life. It was a tough one and I don’t believe there to be any right answer. I hope we can all find peace somehow. Maybe that can be Paizley’s gift to us.

Paizley: The Greatest Sacrifice

I still think about you every single day. Just because I don’t write about you doesn’t mean you aren’t still in my mind and my heart. A lot has gone on lately, little darling. You know. Your daddy is gone from my life. He may not have known how to show you he loved you, but please princess, watch over him. You are a part of him.

I know you watch over me and I know you still hear me when I talk to you. I know you wipe my tears when I think of you. I know you’re wiping my tears right now. Sometimes I feel you whispering in my ear. Who needs intuition when you have a tiny little angel? I hope I am making you proud. I hope that with every thing I do, your heart lights up the heavens with joy. I hope I can do your little life justice by doing well in mine. If I couldn’t bring life to you, I can at least bring more life to me and I’m focused on doing just that, baby girl, I really am.

I’m dating again, darling. And having new men in my life has made me think about you often. I have to pinch myself sometimes… really, really pinch myself. I finally know what it feels like to be treated with kindness and respect. My promise to you is that I will never give my heart to a man who doesn’t love you and understand that you will always be a big part of my life. You taught me so much that I can never go back on and for that, any man who loves me should also love you. I promise to never give my heart to a man who doesn’t adore me and give me everything I would give him. I promise your little life will not be in vain, I will take everything you ever taught me and I will run with it.

Baby, I am the happiest I have ever been. The only void in my life is you and I am filling it with laughter, joy, friends, love and some tears when I need a good cry. I will always have a Paizley-shaped hole in my heart, but because of your sacrifice, I was able to move on and find real happiness. Things do happen for a reason, I know.

I know you are waiting to come back for when you have a daddy who loves your momma and cares for her. Your moment will come, love, and on that day, you will be the most vibrant, bright, shiny star. I can’t wait to meet you again. Until then, I will continue to carry your ashes with me and think about you every day with every fiber of me.

Paizley's Big Brother

The way that Riley says Paizley's name is so damn cute! It's been awhile since I talked to him about her. The other night we were cuddling on the couch and he pointed to my necklace, as he does a lot, and says, "There's my sister," but this time he said, "Paiz-ee." I almost lost it for a moment, tearing up. I had to smile and look away. I don't want him to think of her with saddness. When he is older and he can understand, I want him to be happy she existed in our lives, even if for just a short while.

Having Riley in my life has been such a blessing. I am growing more and more as a person by being around him and helping to raise him. I love to spend time with him and love to have that one-on-one time. It's times like those where I truly see how lucky we are to have such an amazing kid.

The best thing about Riley is that he is such a sweetheart. He's so caring and loving and he truly makes me proud for that. On top of it all, he's funny and smart and... just amazing.

Seeing Riley around his friends really cracks me up. He's got these little girlfriends that he adores and he is so good with them. One little girl, Penny, is younger by about a year and a half and he is so gentle and caring with her. Penny and Riley clicked right off the bat. Even when she was barely walking, he tried to be a good friend to her. Goodbyes were always so precious. Riley and Penny would hold onto eachother with a giant hug and neither would let go. Coming back from the park the other day, they rode in the stroller together. Riley sat behind Penny and hugged her around the waist the whole way back. She would lean back and put her head on his shoulder and whisper in his ear. It was the cutest thing in the world.

His friend Hannah is older and it doens't make any difference to him. He still watches out for her. He shares all his toys without any complaint. And he trys to hold on to her when they are going down the slide at the park. He's such a good boy.

Although I want these moments with Riley to slow down so we can truly enjoy them, I can't wait to see the wonderful man he will surely become. I can't wait for him to eventually become that amazing older brother that he was to be for our Paizley. I know after watching him with Penny and Hannah, that he will be the best older brother in the world. He will be caring and loving. He will protect and share. He will be a good friend. And that is everything you could ask for in a sibling. I know Paizley is watching down wishing she was here to be his little sister. The important thing is he knows she was a part of our lives and when he points out his sister "Paiz-ee", I know he does.

Paizley's Mom

Mother's Day... Ugghhhh Mother's Day.

What do you say when it's your first Mother's Day as the Mom of an angel baby? This is really going to be a tough one for me. Yes, I have a step-son; I love him and adore him, but I won't get any recognition for that on Mother's Day. I'm not his mom. I do consider myself his second mom. I have taken the role of his mom while he is at our house since he was 8 months old. I have done everything for him that his mother does, but give birth to him. It's a thankless job, really. And the only time I really noticed how thankless it is, is when I was thinking about how different Mother's Day is going to be for me this year.

I have a mom. I have grandmas. I certainly love to show them how much I appreciate them on Mother's Day. I will be doing that again this year, of course. It doens't change the fact that I am missing out on being a mother on Mother's Day. I'm missing out on being a new mom. I have pictured in my mind over and over dressing my little 4-month-old in her little Mother's Day outfit and going over to Mom's with my new little baby and everyone gushing over her because of her beautiful face and bright red hair. She would probably be smiling by now... probably rolling over. She would be her momma's joy.

Until Paizley Has a Sister or Brother coming...

I don't want to hear about one more person who just found out they are pregnant. I don't want to see one more ultrasound picture. I don't want to see any more of those stupid, disgustingly cute, professional newborn pictures. I don't want to see another email from Target or Walmart advertising cheap nursery items. How did I even get on that list anyways?? Seems like someone's evil trick. I don't want to hear about any of it. So everyone.... just STOP getting pregnant until it happens for me, okay?!?!


I feel really selfish about saying this... but it's how I feel and I suppose I am entitled to it.

Paizley Pain Subsides

"Humans are not meant to experience that kind of emotion. It was the greatest day of my life then it turned out to be the worst" ~Michael Waltrip

I heard this man on the radio today talking about the horrific day that Dale Earnhardt died. He won the Daytona 500 because of the help of Dale Earnhardt and Dale Earnhardt Jr. and while on the winning block, found out Dale had died in a wreck during the race. He talked about how the very greatest moment in his entire life, the most exciting moment, turned into a nightmare in an instant. Then he talked about how he learned to cope with it.

I feel for this guy. I know exactly what he means. He is right, humans are not meant to experience that kind of emotion... so very true. The day I went in to find out the sex of my little girl was the most exciting day of my life. I couldn't contain myself, I was so excited. Then, in an instant, it changed.

I think that I changed when that happened. I feel different, more humble, more grateful. For awhile there, my whole world was crashing down. Everything I had known for the past five months was gone. Everything I had dreamed of for my whole life was taken away... in an instant, it was all gone. She was still there, though, and I thank God that she was there to comfort me for a few days while I absorbed the shock. Unlike Michael Waltrip, who never got to say goodbye to his great friend, I was able to hold her within me and send her love.

I realized yesterday when reading a post on a pregnancy site that I have come a long way. There was a post by someone who had just found out that their baby was not as perfect as could be, that she would have to go through what I went through and I was able to feel for her but tell her it does get better. Although I still miss that little girl, I am not an emotional wreck anymore like I was for awhile. Although I still cry every time I think of her, the pain has subsided. When we lost the baby, I thought that if I wasn't pregnant again right away, I may explode or spontaneously combust or worse. I know now, that isn't true. It's been seven and a half months since we lost little Paizley and I'm still here. But I can't help but think that if we would have tried right away I'd be half-way there by now. Oh well. Life goes on. That's what I have found. Nomatter what happens in life, as long as my heart is still beating, life... goes... on.

Where Oh Where Can My Paizley Be?

Oh where, oh where can my baby be?
The Lord took her away from me
She's gone to heaven so I gotta be good
So I can see my baby when I leave this world

I heard that song driving around the other day and broke into tears... again. Although her passing has gotten easier as time has gone by, I still cry EVERY time I think about her. It's especially hard right now while I'm feeling distant from my husband. It's hard not to cling onto her when I'm sad. When I think of a brighter future and what I would want my life to be like, she's in it. And lately, I've wanted my life to take a different shape a whole lot.

Paizley Shaped Hole

Your laugh

It amazes me

The way your eyes flicker

Your mouth wide open

Head tilted back

And this silly, toothy giggle

The happiest girl in the world

Your kisses

Oooooo, they complete me

The way your mouth parts

No pucker

Just sloppy, wet sweetness

Planted with glee

All for me

And when you slumber

I watch and dream

About who you are

What you’ll become

Where life will journey

And I pray

I pray for your being

For your love through the thin

For sunny days

Starry nights

For your sweet laugh

Those sloppy, wet kisses

And to hold you in my arms

Mostly to hold you in my arms

Not around my neck

Not just in my dreams

Not just in my mind

That, my sweet angel baby

Would make me the happiest girl in the world

This heart, my love

Has a Paizley shaped hole

When you went away

My world changed

The sky turned black

The rain poured down

My solace is in the silver lining

That your toothy laughs

Your sloppy, wet kisses

May not be a dream one day

That this Paizley hole

May find its match

And the sun will shine again

Remembering Paizley Ann

"If you know someone who has lost a child, and you're afraid to mention them because you think you might make them sad by reminding them that they died--you're not reminding them. They didn't forget they died. What you're reminding them of is that you remembered that they lived, and that is a great gift."

~Elizabeth Edwards~

There comes a point after any tragic occurance where people tend to fade back into their own lives. People are passionate in their feelings for a moment, but if the experience doesn't directly pertain to them, their interest fades away and the only ones left with that tragedy are the people who it directly affected. That happens with the loss of a baby. The ones who haven't faded are the ones who know the struggle and feel the pain. And those that don't know, forget about that little girl when the next tragedy of interest rolls along leaving other poor victims in wreckage. This is life. I can't say I haven't been the one to fade away. It's natural, it's normal. I have absolutely faded.

An example of this is 9/11. The world was set on fire. We mourned the loss of thousands. Now, I'm pretty sure the only people who think about those victims every single day are the ones who lost their husband, father, mother, brother... the people most directly affected.

But just because I don't talk about her everyday doesn't mean I forgot. It doesn't mean that a single day goes by that I don't think about her. It's always nice when other people show they haven't forgotten as well.

What Would Paizley Do?

I was listening to the radio today and I heard Glen Beck talking about this woman named Lila Rose and how she is one of the bravest women he knows because she has stood up to places like Planned Parenthood and really exposed the dirty on abortions. She went undercover and caught Planned Parenthood telling a pimp how he can get around laws that prevent his hoes from coming in and having underage abortions. They told him to have them lie about their age and told him to sign as their guardian etc. Really, it made me sick. She also has exposed abortion for what it is by telling the stories of the unborn children and showing women other options.

What I saw when I went to her website, www.liveaction.org, made me really sick. I truly do not believe abortions should be legal. I think that a woman who would dispose of her perfectly viable fetus is wrong. I used to believe that all women should have a choice to their own body and that whatever decision they made for their own life was right, however, as abortion becomes more and more popular, it gets dirtier and dirtier. These clinics de-humanize babies in order to sway women to abort their children. It is sickening. The babies are not given a voice anymore. They do not even allow women to look at an ultrasound before the procedure because it allows them to see it for what it really is: the murder of their child and they are afraid they will back out.

As a woman who went through this disgusting procedure, I feel I have every right to be angry about it. Granted I had a “choice,” but really, I had NO choice. My child would have died at birth, or possibly been born stillborn. She would have gone thorough pain, only to pass away. I would have postponed the inevitable by continuing with my pregnancy. I would not have given her a life; I would have given her a more painful death. And I would have put myself in danger as well. I knew that my little girl would be appreciative of spending her final moments in a place where she felt safe and comfortable rather than making the painful journey through the birthing canal, being blinded by hospital lights, manhandled by a doctor, hooked up to tubes, gasping for a breath that won't come and then finally passing away in a rough-to-the-touch blanket while her mother's sobs carry her away. So, for that, I am glad that I was still given a choice.

Call me a hypocrite, but when these women go in and have abortions because they just don’t want their babies or don’t feel they are ready, I get angry. I sat in the waiting room of the clinic when I had my procedures and fumed because there were women in there just waiting to erase their pregnancies. I wanted to jump across the aisle and rip their faces off. It makes me especially angry because as a result of their actions, we have organizations such as Liveaction who are dedicating their resources to giving these children a voice that they do not have, which includes posting videos and pictures of abortions. The bloody truth. I think that they should, because I don’t want any viable baby to have to go through that but GODDAMN! It really hurts me to see those pictures... those tiny little limbs in pieces. And because of these women who casually kill their child, women like myself who are missing their angel babies are also demonized. I don’t want to be in the same category!

So, is it selfish to say that I am glad that “abortion” was an option for me, but I wish that it wasn’t an option for other women? I wish that any healthy baby would not have to go through that. I wish that women who just don’t want their babies would reconsider and give their babies up for adoption. I wish they didn’t have a choice. Now I know that I would catch a lot of shit for that if anyone read this. I know drug addicts have abortions because they don’t want their babies and maybe it’s better for the child… maybe. I know that taking away the option would create a ton of “unwanted” children. I know that we cannot financially support making abortion illegal. This is just my opinion in this very moment, without reasoning, without thinking into it. Because if abortion was only reserved to those babies who would not live, then maybe in a perfect world, this world would be a better place.

Millions of Babies but None are Paizleys

Part of losing a baby is coping with the fact that your baby wasn’t the first pregnancy and won’t be the last. Well, most people would say, “Duh” but unless you have experienced the pain of losing a child (or the pain of desperately wanting one, but not getting pregnant), you won’t know what that feeling is like. Every time I see a mother and her child, I want that. I think about how my baby girl would be xx old now (one month tomorrow, actually) and I wonder what that would be like. Every time I see a mother with her child, I want to cry and break down, I want to scream, I want to lock myself in a closet for awhile… pretty much every time. Every time I hear someone else is expecting, I go through a series of sadness, joy, jealously, wanting, anger, happiness… where is my Paizley girl?? Every time yet another person posts the pictures of them and their significant other in the delivery room taking their first look at their precious little bundle of joy, I cry. It’s not a “why me”, per se; it’s a “sad it’s not me.” I don’t want to speculate why this happened to me. It happened, that’s it. And it happened to me. But I’ll be damned if I don’t feel sadness thinking about the fact that she’s not here when she was supposed to be. It’s not that I don’t want others to have that joy, I just want it too.

You get to a certain age where it’s pretty much breeding season, kind of like hunting season, but one that lasts about 5-10 years. During this span from about age 25-35, you can pretty much bet that at least 6 people you know, at any given point in time, are expecting a child or just had their baby. Now, back to hunting… you’ve been waiting for this season to hit for a long, long time; you’re out with all your gear, in the rain/sleet/snow for weeks on end and you’re the one person who doesn’t come home with an elk. It’s a pretty sad story. You can’t wait to try your best friend’s elk burgers, of course, but it’s pretty bittersweet having that thought in the back of your head that you just wanted your elk. Well folks, it’s hunting season and I am the elk-less bitch here.

No Paizley, No Cry

You would be here today, little girl. That is, if you were as good to me still as you were then and you came on time. Today is being spent trying to stay positive and happy instead of sad and going through all the what-ifs. I will still think of you today, as everyday, I just cannot allow myself to wallow in the sorrow of not getting to go to the hospital today and meet my little girl. If I let myself go there, there will be no turning back. I am just going to focus on wishing you to have a little sister one day... one day soon, I hope.

Paizley are you okay? Are you okay? Are you okay, Paizley?

Next to giving birth to an angel baby, the procedure for terminating a pregnancy is pretty much the worst thing you can possibly go through. There are very few places I could have gone for this type of thing, and only one my genetic specialist said he would trust sending his daughter to, a very good friends of his. A lot of these places are “turn-em-and-burn-em” type offices that perform tons of first trimester abortion procedures. It makes me sick to my stomach to think about. Sitting in the waiting room, everyone is sizing each other up. It’s a pretty crazy thing to be sitting across from another woman who is there to erase her pregnancy in one swift swoop. Or is she? I wondered how many women in that room were in the shitty predicament we were in. How many had loved that baby as much as I did? It couldn’t be possible though that every woman in the room was there to relieve her beloved baby from the pain of death during birth like myself. That is when the cruel process of sizing up begins. I sat and wondered which one of these horrible bitches were there to end the life of their perfect fetuses. I wondered how many men they had fucked to get to where they were and if any were getting rid of evidence of infidelity. And I got angry, real angry. I wished for this little girl since I was old enough to name my dolls. Ryan and I had her name picked out before we even knew she existed. And here I am in a room, surrounded by women who are willingly giving up their opportunity to live my biggest dream. That anger, was an anger to be reckoned with. 

On top of the heartbreak, the process is a long and grueling one. It’s a full three days of office visits, pain, procedures, pill popping and goodbyes, all mixed in with a little bit of hope. This is what you go through when you want your baby. Those that do not are in and out in a matter of hours, ready to begin to forget.

I have to admit, I was blessed with a very amazing team of doctors and genetic specialists. The doctors at the clinic were so great to me. They really understood what I was going through and made it so that it was as easy for me as possible. The first day was the very painful procedure of inserting lamanaria into my cervix to dilate me. I was warned that my water might break, rare but possible. I was sent home to rest, grieve and await another day of dreaded procedures. The next morning I woke up and my water had broken. I was in panic. I got to the clinic early and was told that it was perfectly fine for that to happen, in fact, welcomed because it helps the procedure along. My main concern was the baby. How would she live without the fluid to survive? And the answer I choked on was…. She wouldn’t. She would probably not make it till the next day’s procedures. There was no telling how long it would take, but she would not make it. I had more laminaria put in and left to go rest off the pain.

I went home that day knowing it would be my last chance to talk to her. I was scared to not have her with me and prepared myself for the feeling of an empty nest. That last day with her was a day I will never forget. I spoke to her soul. I let that baby girl know how much her mommy loved her. I let her know not to be afraid, that everything would work out. And I begged her to come back to us through the next baby. And then something happened that I wasn’t prepared for; something that made all the fear and anguish wash away… my angel grew wings.

I lay on the couch trying to sleep. It had been a long, emotional couple of days and I needed some rest to recharge. My eyes were closed, but my body would not allow me to doze off. I had this lingering itch that would not go away. First my arm would itch a little, then my face, then my leg. It was preventing me from getting to sleep and I was getting a little annoyed. All of a sudden, I felt this huge, intense wave rush through my entire body. It was so intense; I thought maybe I had overdosed on my medication. I continued to close my eyes and with them closed I could see the energies of our three dogs. It was like I was seeing the room, but with my eyes closed. I could see exactly where each dog was lying based on the energy they put off. Then I noticed I wasn’t alone. There were two other energies in the room with me… people. One was standing next to me and the other was on the other side of the coffee table. All this happened so quickly that I wasn’t really paying attention to what was going on. I opened my eyes quickly because I felt the need to make sure I was really alone in the house. It was all one split second. I closed my eyes upon seeing nothing but the dogs and then... it HIT me. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I started to cry uncontrollably realizing what had just happened: She just died. She passed over and the two presences were there to bring her over. I had literally felt her spirit leave my body. It was simply amazing. At that moment, I knew she was okay. All my fear of her experiencing any pain with the procedure was gone. All my fear of if she would be okay was gone. I felt so at peace knowing that she was with people who loved her. About thirty minutes later, I got up to go to the bathroom. On the way, I glanced over at a picture of Ryan’s grandma and although I never got a chance to meet her because she passed away before Ryan and I met, I looked at that woman and I said to her, “You were just here!” I knew it was her who came to get Paizley.

From that day forward, I felt more comfortable with what was happening. I miss her like hell; don’t get me wrong. But I miss her because of my selfishness. I miss her because she was the closest I ever got to my dream coming true. She is okay. She is in a good place. She left in peace and her family greeted her. She didn’t have to suffer or feel any pain on the wretched day that followed.

I woke up the next morning and took the special pill they gave me. As promised, thirty minutes later I was in extreme labor. Poor Ryan had to listen to me screaming in pain as he raced me to the clinic in rush hour morning traffic. We got there early and had to wait for the doctors to show up to the office. It was an excruciating wait.  They finally showed up and let me into the back room.

There was a particular nurse I really liked at the clinic that I was going to. She was always so sweet and helpful. I think she really felt for me. What I was going through saddened her. She saw the pain in my eyes and how much I wanted my baby. The last day of procedures, the big day, I told her as she gave me my IV what had happened the day before. I told her about how I knew Paizley was okay and she broke down crying. She told me that for some reason, she really connected with me. She opened up to me about her life, about her current heartbreak and about her dreams as I was drifting into twilight sleep. It made me feel a little better knowing someone there was acknowledging the pain I was enduring for a little girl I loved so much.

I don’t remember much from the procedure; I guess that’s the point of putting you under. I do remember looking over at the big glass jar with hoses petruding out next to me, the one I had seen both days prior when I had wondered how many babies had made their way into it. I looked over with twilight eyes and saw the jar was not empty as before and I managed to get out of my mouth, “Is that my baby?” as I drifted away again. And then I was on my way to recovery (where I had an embarassing, though hilarious bathroom experience I would never put in writing but will tell you over a beer one day if you wanna know).

Recovery now is writing about her; sharing my experience. Recovery now is remembering her and looking forward to new beginnings. Recovery now is helping maybe just one woman who has had to go through what I have been through. Maybe one woman will read this and know she isn’t alone. Maybe one woman who is thinking about ending her baby’s life will read this and change her mind knowing that she could make her dreams come true if she would just take a step back and think about what matters. Recovery is full of maybes…

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A Paizleyless Story

To a childless mother, life is full of constant reminders of a dream stripped away. How ironic it was when, the other night, the coupon that printed up for me at the grocery store as I was buying a case of beer was a coupon for two dollars off diapers. Here I am, purchasing something I wouldn’t even turn my head at if she were still here because I would be two weeks away from the big day, and I am given a little reminder of a lost little girl. It’s always a little punch in the face. I wanted to turn around, grab the diapers in place of the beer and walk out, forgetting all that has transpired over the last four months. I wanted to close my eyes as I walked into the house, walk back into the nursery and put the diapers away in her closet among the stacks and stacks we have been collecting for the many diaper changes ahead. There is no nursery though. Her room is an office. Her closet isn’t full of adorable little girl dresses and her drawers aren’t full of warm footie pajamas. In her closet hangs our winter coats and clothes that couldn’t fit in our closet and in her drawers lies my wedding dress, computer cords and at the very bottom, the very last drawer is a bag full of clothes. The last drawer holds baby clothes, right where they belong- in the nursery. They are the only trace of baby in her room; little clothes stuffed away for one day. These little onesies are yellow and green and orange, the colors that represent the first trimester; the one where you don’t know whether to buy pink or blue, but just want to buy something. The day after I revealed the big news to my family, they drove me straight out to the outlet mall in Anthem and bought the baby every unisex outfit, blankie and bib, they could find. They now lie stuffed in a bag in a drawer. I never got to buy all the cute, little, frilly dresses with bows and lace because the day we found out she was a little girl was the day we found out she would never get to come home with us.

As we sat in the waiting room that day, I was so excited. I beamed and smiled and squeezed Ryan’s arm so hard. I kept asking and asking, “Are you excited?!?” and he would reply with, “Stop! I’m nervous. Why are you so excited?” He was getting annoyed. I couldn’t sit still. The countdown had begun weeks before and everyone was on the edge of their seat. We were all waiting to hear the news we had all been waiting for since the day I revealed I was expecting, “It’s a girl!” I asked Ryan in the waiting room how we should let everyone know. I decided we would go buy a little pink pair of booties and post a picture on Facebook and through text of us holding them up for all to see that yes, we would be welcoming a little girl! He thought I was crazy for having it all so meticulously planned out. He is a realist who fears every negative outcome. I couldn’t fathom anything going wrong so I hopped up on that examination table without a worry in the world only to receive news I wasn’t prepared for. Meanwhile, all our friends were on my Facebook page having a conversation about what they thought the verdict was, introducing themselves to each other, telling stories about how they met me and expressing their nervousness on why it was taking so long for me to post something. They thought maybe I had found out it was a boy and was upset about it. It was a big day for everyone who loved me. And of course we know how the news ended up. That day has become a benchmark in my life. It was a day I will never forget. I left that office with hope that they were all wrong, though I knew in my heart I would be saying goodbye.

As a childless mother, I am constantly reminded of my empty belly. Seems like everywhere I look, some beautiful woman is beaming with that “pregnancy glow.” I see that pregnant belly on women and though I want to look away and continue on with my day, I can’t stop staring. I imagine it on me, how I would look with a baby belly, how I would look today. Though I was five months along when she left me, I didn’t look like I was pregnant yet. I still had that “I packed on a few pounds after the holidays” belly. I never got to experience what it was like for people to notice I’m expecting without me telling them. I never got a chance to feel pregnant.

(20 weeks, sticking it out a little. ;) )

As a childless mother, I feel like I am always missing something. This emptiness has been especially hard around the holidays when mothers are hustling and bustling around with their baby carriages, towing their other little ones behind. I know no woman would think that at a time of pure chaos and craziness another woman is completely envying her, but yes, I am. I wish I could tell her to relax and cherish the time she gets to tote around her children because there are others who do not have that, but then I remind myself not to be a freak and I go about my way. Every time another friend or family member announces the big news, every time I hear someone tell another about someone who “just found out they are pregnant,” a little piece of me clenches up and screams inside. My only wish I will ever have is for that day to come for me again. For someone to tell another, “Erica just found out she’s pregnant!” It will happen one of these days.

The gift that Paizley has given me is to never take the people and things in my life that I love for granted. Losing her will make me a better mother to the children who will be and are present in my life. I have found an outlet to vent my sadness, though I really am quite a happy person. The magnitude of the pain I have had from losing her has shown me the magnitude of happiness I will have when looking into my first child’s eyes. If I can love a child I’ve lost as much as I do, the child that lives won’t know what to do with all the love they receive. And I can show that love now to Riley, who I adore. I can share my happiness with him and I can hope to share with him a little brother or sister one day.

Speaking of Paizley...

My husband and I cried together last night for the first time in awhile. He read the first two posts in this blog and cried with me. I realized he is still hurting just as bad as me, he just deals with it differently. We've been going through so much bullshit in our lives since she left us that we haven't been able to come together and miss her together. It was good to remember I'm not alone with my feelings about her, that I have my best friend going through it with me.

Also, the support I have been getting from friends and family has been amazing. I certainly don't want to be that "woe is me, everyone feel sorry for me" person and I hope that it doesn't come across as that because I genuinely want people to feel happy instead of sad for us. However, it's really great to hear that just like I haven't forgotten about her, people haven't forgotten about Ryan and I. We are strong and we will be okay, but sometimes I just wanna talk about her. I really don't want to go on with my life pretending it never happened and getting over it. She blessed our lives in a variety of ways and yes, I miss her and will think about her every day forever.

One thing I have learned from the loss of my child is that this world is an amazing place. I know that it may have been easy to go the other direction and say that this is a cruel, sad world, but I would be kidding myself. I was blessed to have that child for the short time I did. She brought Ryan and I closer. She made me realize a true, true love that exists in a bond between a mother and a child. She has made me love and appreciate Riley more. I have learned to appreciate the beauty of this world and how everything is interconnected. I had an amazing experience with her passing that I will never forget (I felt her soul leave me). And I have realized how incredibly strong I am.

Now, to work on another baby... :)




The Hand I Was Dealt

Hold close onto your children
You know not what their future holds
You may have had a loss
So dark as mine, so cold

Her hands they looked so perfect
Her toes were God's great mold
Hold close onto your children
Their future may not be so bold

Be grateful for their laugh
Cherish their every cry
You may never know what it feels
To have that child die

It's not a hand I wish you hold
I never wished it upon myself
It's a pain so deep, it rocks your soul
It's the hand that I was dealt

I never heard her laugh
I never heard her cry
It's a tough reality to grasp
That we only said Goodbye

Paizley Raindrops Everyday

I cry every day. Every. Single. Day.

I would say that 65% of every day is thinking about my baby girl and wishing she was still in my belly. She would be here in 3 weeks and 1 day from today, based on my due date. I would be a walking house right now… preparing to be ready for the hospital, her nursery would be finished, my feet would be swollen, I would be kick counting all day. Instead, I never got a chance to feel her little feet. I will always wonder if she would have her daddy’s nose or my red hair. I will always think about the day I would get to bring her home from the hospital. I will always have to create my own what ifs and memories. I will Never. Get. To. Hold. My. Baby.

I often think about the day we found out… sitting in the dark ultrasound room. After the most horrible moment of my entire life, the nurse asked me if I even wanted to take home the CD with the pictures of my baby on it. As if I didn’t want to have the pictures of my baby?!?! As if I was just going to say “Oh well, we tried” and go home and forget about it?!?! One would think that a nurse has been exposed to enough horrible situations like that one to know that just because my baby will not live does not mean I am going to forget she existed. One would think to have the common courtesy that if you didn’t give a shit that I was losing my baby, atleast you would give me the benefit of the doubt that I give a shit. What mother wouldn’t?!?! All I have is that fucking picture and her ashes. And I hold my necklace with her ashes in it and cry Every. Single. Day.

Missing my Paizley Ann

I lost my little girl in August. It was the toughest thing I had ever gone through. To be honest, reading an old friends posts about losing her baby helped me so much to understand the pain I was feeling. In the begining, I thought I would be okay because I lost my baby at 22 weeks. I didn't give birth to her, I didn't see her. I was going to be fine, right? Well, it's been several months now and I am missing her more and more every day. I am a wreck. So, today after writing a bit, I decided that maybe blogging would help. I want an outlet to show how much I loved my little girl... even if I never met her.

So here is a little ditty I wrote today...

           My mind wanders to thoughts of you every single day. My eyes well up, I get that lump in my throat where it’s hard to swallow and I feel like I suddenly caught the flu. Sometimes my eyes get so glassy that I can’t see through it. Such is a metaphor for my life without you.

            I know you are in a better place though. A place where the sun shines everyday and you can feel the warmth on your skin. A place where the grass is always green on both sides and the butterflies don’t fly away after they land on you. The music is always cheerful and the people greet you in the street like friends. I think maybe you’re a ballerina, with your legs long and lean… just like your momma. You have more rhythm than your mom; she could never really dance.

            I sometimes wonder if you miss me too. Do you remember my voice? Do you long to hear my heart beat against yours? Do you sometimes get scared out in the wide-open air without the comfort of home? You would have to know I loved you. I told you so often; I may have rendered it meaningless. It means so much to me that I loved you. It means so much that I enjoyed every day with you; that you were gentle on me. You grooved with my being like rain drops falling into the ocean, like you were all mine. You were.

            I anger myself with how meaningless life seems without you. The weeks slip by me and I can’t help but countdown the days until you would be in my arms. Would be. And I size you up, “Today, she would be a cantaloupe,” though I dare not speak it aloud. But my belly is still flat and my feet haven’t swelled and your clothes are all packed and my wedding ring barely fits. I was waiting for you to bring it all to size. I couldn’t have been more excited if someone handed me a million dollars. You were my joy. I changed my life for you. And it was taken all away in a moment, just one moment in time.

I felt so connected to you that I knew; I knew there would be ribbons and bows instead of trucks and dirt clods. Buying pink was never a gamble. I knew who you were, but I will never get a chance to know you. You slipped through me like an elephant through a pinhole. It was never easy. It was never painless.

I sat on the edge of the lake that last weekend looking out into the mirrored reflections of what could be, knowing what your future held. I captured those final moments with you, holding onto my belly as if to hold onto your soul. I took pictures, picturing myself in another place and time, one where you would really be mine. And I drove back to reality with tears in my eyes, damning the forces that brought our part.

I now pray to you like you are my God, my universe, and my soul. Sometimes I think you are the only one who understands me, the only thing that would complete me. You listen without judgment. You love without haste. You remind me what it is to truly love. And for that, I will never forget you. I will always remember the day I found out I was going to be someone’s mommy. I will forever cherish the time you graced my life with your presence. And I will forever despise they day you left my heart empty.