Peaceful scenes from December 29th

December 29th was the first anniversary of my daughter's death. In some ways, the horror of that morning seems so fresh. In other regards, it seems so long ago and far away, I sometimes wonder if it really happened at all. Of course, I know it did happen: she is real, she was here in the flesh and she will always remain with me in spirit.

I decided that we would honor this day by showing Angeline that in spite of our profound grief, her mommy and daddy continue to love each other and are still trying to find joy in life, even though this life hasn't turned out the way we had hoped it would. With that in mind, we took a few days away, so that we could enjoy each other, her memory, and natural beauty in the world around us.

Below you will find a few of the peaceful scenes we encountered on an early morning walk on the first anniversary of our daughter's death.

I send peace and love to all of you, as well. I hope that 2012 proves to be a better year for all of us.

Tomorrow marks one year

December 29th will mark one year since the worst day of my life. No, not just worst day. Most horrifying, surreal, earth-shattering moment of my life to date, and hopefully ever. It is still hard for me to fathom how much my life changed on that day.

I relived it a little today, because in 2010, the 29th was a Wednesday. The Wednesday after Christmas. The Wednesday before the New Year. The Wednesday my daughter died.

One year: 52 weeks or 365 days. Eight thousand, seven hundred and sixty hours. More than half a million seconds. I can't believe it, but here I am.

We survived the Christmas holiday without her this year. We surrounded ourselves with friends and family who are sensitive to all we have been through, and continue to go through. We made the best of things. I was actually able to find some peace and even joy in the celebration. It now seems so hard to imagine that it was meant to be Angeline's "First Christmas." Little did I know that last year would be her only Christmas with us.

The past few days we have remained positive, in spite of everything. We have had fun, laughed, loved, indulged... sort of the way the holiday season is meant to be. Only not quite. There is an underlying sadness and ache, but these days, it's just a part of me. Of us. Forever.

You might not realize it to look at us, if you didn't know. But life keeps rubbing salt in the wound. Like the couple sitting next to me at the restaurant last night, gushing about their one-year old twins, a boy and a girl. Carrying on about how lucky they are, they're "done," flashing pictures. That conversation quickly brought me back to reality and took the wind out of my sails. On the other hand, I am just getting used to it. Why wouldn't that happen to us 48 hours before the anniversary of our daughter's death? It would be too much to expect to enjoy an evening out in peace, I suppose.

I am hoping that tomorrow will be a peaceful day, which we plan to spend immersed in majestic natural beauty. Somehow I feel that this will lessen the pain and have a healing effect. In any case, I believe at the end of the day, I will still be standing.

These are a few of my favorite things...

Don't worry, I've calmed down.

Some of my last post may have been fueled by hormones. Not to say that my sentiments weren't completely valid...

I wanted to share a few of my favorite things, and a few special memorial ornaments. I love Christmas ornaments, and I have a couple new ones to honor Angeline's memory.


First, one of my favorite every day tributes to Angeline. Given to me by my dear friend K.W., it is a sculpture entitled,"Joy." It lives on my fireplace in my cozy living room.

Next, Angeline's 1st birthday cupcake ornament. A sweet treat for a sweet girl!

My dragonfly ornament. Of the symbolic creatures representing our lost babies, I favor the butterfly and the dragonfly. I found this ornament and thought it was a perfect addition to the tree for our first year without Angeline.

Finally, a unique and special piece given to me by my dear friend Cricket. It can only represent one thing, a loving mother and father embracing their angel. I love it!!

Mid-December Blue Period

Well, it's official. Having the anniversary of your baby's death and Christmas in the same week really makes for a bad time in December. That's actually an understatement. There are few times during the year that a baby-loss parent feels worse than the build up to the anniversary and the Christmas holiday. Lucky me, I get them both together. Oh, and did I mention that I have no other living children? And not pregnant?

If you think I sound like I'm not in a good mood, you are correct. I am experiencing something of a resurgence in a lot of the feelings that had finally started to fade away. Just when I thought I could breathe again...

Not too long ago, a well-meaning person said to me, "I really believe that life gives us only what we can handle." Of course, this is like nails on a blackboard to some of us, so I politely (but firmly) pointed out that this simply is not this case, and indeed quite a few people are faced with burdens that they can't endure. Leading to outcomes like clinical depression and suicide, to name a few. She paused and then came back with, "Well, do you think life has given you more than you can handle?" I was a little taken aback. Surely, I have been through some absolutely horrifically painful experiences in this past year. But was I completely broken yet? Well, no, I guessed not. And I admitted that to her.

Meanwhile, now that this nightmare of a year is drawing to an end, I think I can honestly say that I really have had just about all I can handle. I am hoping that we can survive the next few weeks and that 2012 will bring better times for us.

I hope that all of you are holding up during this very difficult time.

Anniversary approaching

It has been nearly one year...
Since she left this life.
Since I gazed at her beautiful face, her hands, her feet and was amazed that we had made her.
When my world came crashing down.
I can still remember the last time I was truly happy.
The time in which I have learned the depth of grief, unlike any emotion I have ever experienced.
I realized that in the midst of crisis, some people will disappoint you, others will pleasantly surprise you, while a rare and precious few will overwhelm you with their love and kindness.
Since I really understood that none of us is protected from instantaneous, life-changing tragedy.
I have tried to pick up the pieces of our life.
Every day, I have been challenged to carry on.
I have grown closer to sensing her daily presence.