Ellee

When we arrived home from the hospital, the magnitude of what had happened began to set in. It was as if my heart was being ripped out of my chest with every beat. There are no words that can describe the anguish of not having your baby with you to mask the pains associated with giving birth. Holding and cuddling your new little child makes up for any amount of pain a mother goes through, throughout pregnancy and the birth process. With previous births, I remember thinking in moments of discomfort, Cuddling you in my arms, right now, makes everything I've gone through completely worth it, and I would gladly do it all over again in a heartbeat just to be in this moment cuddling with you, my precious baby. But when your arms are empty, and your baby you worked so hard for and loved so deeply is not there -nor will ever be there to cuddle, when you are left to continue on in the final stages of the birthing process alone, and your body is bruised and screaming- You just gave birth!...You have not fed your baby yet!!..Now feed your baby!!! -that is a physical and emotional pain so deep, there are no words.

It was in that anguish, I layed awake in the early-morning hours, beside the empty crib, longing to be up feeding my baby. Instead, laying in the silence, alone and broken-hearted, I heard little feet pit-patting across the kitchen floor and into our room. Ellee shuffled groggily over to my side, climbed into bed with me, gave me a gentle kiss, and began singing I Am a Child of God. Hearing her sweet little voice in the dark instantly brought calmness into my heart. I squeezed Ellee tight, cuddled her, and basked in the peace of knowing, without a doubt, Tesslee was aware of my desperation, and had sent Ellee in to physically comfort me and fill my aching, empty arms.         

  A few days ago I was sitting on the floor watching Tesslee's video. Ellee sat down beside me and began watching, too. After a few minutes I became teary-eyed. She stood up, pressed my face to her chest and kissed my forehead so tenderly, holding me close as she patted my back. It was not the hug of a two-year-old. It was as if Ellee knew just what to do to comfort me. This has happened many times since Tesslee passed.

I feel so strongly that Ellee was given specific gifts to be able to comfort me. At one point I feared that she would be too young to remember anything about Tesslee, but have come to understand that Ellee and Tesslee have quite a sisterly relationship, and Ellee is playing an important role. I'm so grateful that Heavenly Father looks out for my needs as a mother and has blessed me with my precious Ellee who gives me extra love in place of her little sister who is busy right now.

Thankful

This has been such a rough couple of days to say the least. I'm heartsick that Fall is approaching. It just brings up a whole new range of emotions. Thanksgiving is going to be a tough season to get through. It was last November that Tesslee arrived here with our family. I say arrived because my insight on when a baby joins a family has completely changed. And it was Thanksgiving Day that we so excitedly announced her, still innocent and assuming that being pregnant meant you will be bringing your baby home with you. Thanksgiving used to be my very. favorite. holiday. I wonder what this will do to it. I ate a piece of pumpkin pie tonight, and my heart dropped. Its flavor brought back all those feelings I had the last time I ate pumpkin pie, of trying to get myself through the sickness, with the happy thoughts of seeing all our family together next year for Baby's first Christmas. What a sickening feeling now. And I hate feeling like this. I'm so done with feeling broken!!!! I've been soul-searching all week how I can get myself out of this. I decided I am going to be thankful. So here is my list of thank yous (in chronological order) that I desperately hope can get my mind in a better place.

**Thank you, Mike, for loving me unconditionally, for sharing all the moments -the beautiful and the unspeakably painful- of this experience, every step of the way. And for being patient with me through all my tears, anger and grief.**

Thank you, little Blakeley, for coming early, and bringing our parents home from their mission to visit. I have no doubt that you knew Tesslee's plan and knew we would need them here.

Thank you, Mom, for dropping everything and driving me home after we got the news. Thank you for being my mom through all of this from the very beginning.

Thank you, Mom Renee, for finishing Tesslee's baby blanket for me, for crying with me, and loving me when I am weak. Thank you Elder and Sister Sherwood for your thoughts, prayers and texts, through all of this.

Thank you, Bishop, for meeting with us the evening we found out Tesslee had passed away. Thank you for your wise counsel, and your continued support and time. Thank you for being there at Tesslee's service. That meant a lot to me.

Thank you, Dad, for letting my cry in your arms that night.

Thank you, Jenny, for being my nurse and staying with us on the hardest night of my life. Your friendship was no less than a tender mercy and much needed distraction and comfort.

Thank you, Jordan Valley Hospital, for giving me a good experience. Thank you for having a bereavement plan in place. I have become aware of many hospitals that don't, which makes me even more grateful.

**Thank you to my Heavenly Father, for allowing me to have such a beautiful birth experience.**

Thank you, Bella Baby Photography, for the precious photos of Tesslee.

Thank you, Heidi with Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep, for editing my photos and putting together our precious slide show DVD. Thank you for hosting sewing days every month. I have found much comfort there.

Thank you, Brea, Kate, Mom and Dad, and Mom Renee, for coming to meet Tesslee. It meant so much to me that you would come to see our daughter. If I've left out anyone, I'm sorry, I was in shock and don't recall at the moment, but thank you, as well.

Thank you, Kate, for asking if you could hold Tesslee twice. I will never forget that. It meant so much to me.

Thank you, Lenae, our chaplain at the hospital, for your love, insight, and counseling. For taking the sweet molds of Tesslee's hands and feet, and for caring for Tesslee so tenderly after we said our goodbyes and left her with you.

Thank you, Clint and Courtney, for staying with me the first time Mike and the kids left me alone. Thank you, Clint, for all the tender hugs when I've broken down.

Thank you, Aunt Linda, for carrying me through a particularly difficult time. Thank you for being in my corner, thank you for letting me cry hard on your shoulder, thank you for sincerely listening  and asking questions and for saying, "I'm so sorry for all of our loss." Thank you for our talks on spiritual matters. Thank you for teaching me how to take care of myself when I am in survival mode. Thank you for taking me to Women's Conference. Thank you for following the Spirit and being aware of my needs. Thank you, Elizabeth, for your uplifting personality and kindness.

Thank you, Shawnie, for the beautiful package that lifted my spirits at the exact right time. Thank you for incorporating Tesslee into our scrapbook, and for your constant support and sisterhood.

Thank you, Mom, Dad and Em for reading Gone Too Soon, just to try to understand a little where I am now.

Thank you, Teeny Tears, for creating the diaper organization that has brought me so much peace on my hard days. 

Thank you, Sarah, for all the meals, watching kids, listening ear, hugs, and help with Tesslee's luncheon in planning and making it so special. Thank you for remembering that Tesslee loved bubblegum and incorporating that into her luncheon, as well as the continuous check ups to see how I am handling things. You have made my burdens light.

Thank you, Em, for always being there for me at my very worst. For the shoulder to cry on day after day, for the continued sensitivity to my tender state of mind, for the breakfast that showed up on my door the first Memorial Day without my baby, for patiently listening while I vent my anger, and everything else in between.

Thank you, Brea, for cleaning up the kitchen and putting the food away after the luncheon, when I was too emotionally drained to even think about it. Thank you for the many times you have brought Tesslee up in conversation (by name) and have included her as one of the cousins, and for your grief support, pizza on the doorstep, etc. You are truly compassionate.

Thank you, Courtney and Kate, for being patient and understanding with me throughout the remainder of your pregnancies. I know the circumstance created much awkwardness, and I appreciate your continued support, even now. Thank you, sisters.

Thank you, family, for wearing purple for Tesslee and coming to her service. Your support meant the world to us.

Thank you, Heather, for being close to the Spirit to know my needs so often. Thank you for putting your arm around me and for all the hugs and genuine sisterhood when I broke down every Relief Society lesson those raw first few months. Thank you for your compassion. Thank you for opening the binder to the roll for me. That gesture alone let me know God knows my heart and thoughts. Thank you for your friendship.

Thank you, Angel Moms, for your empathy and support, and friendship through all of this. I am so comforted to have you all to turn to when my grief consumes me.

Thank you, Laura, Julie, and Christy, for reaching out to me, and letting me know that I will get through this, and there is happiness still to be had.

Thank you, Jaimi and Trevor, for bringing Tesslee a purple night light at her grave. It means so much to me that you would think of her and visit her. Thank you, Jaimi, for checking up on me and keeping me in your thoughts.

Mom, thank you for keeping Tesslee's grave in full bloom and visitng her often. It makes my heart happy to see flowers there regularly.

I am exhausted now, but my heart is feeling lighter than it has in a long time. After writing this down, I can see that I have a lot of support, and have been so blessed. I know there are many more thank yous due, and I will continue to post them when they come to mind. One last one, though,

Thank you for following me on my journey here. It gives me a lot of strength knowing that someone is interested in what I am going through. Good night.

Laughing

Tonight the kids and I were sitting around the table eating a bedtime snack and I was curious as to what Cade's pear tasted like, by the look on his face. I bit into it. There were no words to describe the intensely-sour flavor. It was so deceiving, I began to laugh. Jefferson wanted to taste it. The face he pulled made me laugh even harder. "What kind of a pear is that?!?!" he forced out, as it had the same effect on him that it had on Cade and me. Soon Kilee wanted in on the fun. Each time one of us took a bite, the laughter grew. I sat there belly-laughing with my kids, over this sour pear that was now almost gone, and suddenly realized I was laughing, and how amazingly awesome it felt to be experiencing an extreme emotion other than anguish!

 For months now I've been trying to get used to this new me I'm being shaped into, and I feel so foreign to myself.  I was relieved to see that there is still a piece of the old Sara, resurfacing. Experiencing this tonight gave me hope for the first time since Tesslee passed, that I won't always have to fake the smiles, there really is genuine happiness to be felt in the future, and I am on the right track. I'm so glad my kids saw their mom laughing that hard. I hope Tesslee saw it, too, and was laughing right along with us.

Tesslee,

This whole day was so hard to get through. I did a very good job keeping myself distracted, but in the end I wasn't strong enough to hold it in any longer. I locked myself in the bathroom, turned the vent on, and sobbed for you. I miss your little legs so much. And your toes, I wish I had brought them to my lips and kissed them. I would do so much over. I wouldn't've let them take you away and dress you. I would've dressed you myself. And I would've turned you around and looked at your little back and bottom. That is something that will always be a mystery to me. My own baby and I never saw your little bottom, diaperless. I keep trying to relive in my mind those two days I held you tight and slept with you next to me, anything to give me comfort. Why didn't I take any pictures of me holding your hand? Your fingers were so perfect. I had no idea how much a heart could hurt. I wish I were buying size newborn diapers for you. I wish I was spending money on your diapers! I wish I was up all night feeding and rocking you and giving you my love. I wish I was lugging around your cute, new diaper bag and your car seat carrier. I wish I could say that I have five kids without people squirming and quickly changing the subject. I wish I could have you back. Even for just one more hour. I would open your sleeping eyelids and see your beautiful eyes. I kept waiting for you to move, for your eyes to open. You were holding so still. Babies aren't supposed to hold that still. Why did you leave me? I am going to bed and I hope when I wake up you will still be with me.

My Grief and the Atonement

The past few weeks I've really struggled with going to church. It has been very hard placing myself where there are babies Tesslee's age all around. When I have gone, the tears have just flowed uncontrollably at any given time, and it is embarrassing to face the many, caring people stopping to ask what is wrong and what they can do to help... as well as my children loudly pointing out, "Mom, you've been crying again, huh."

A few weeks ago I became discouraged and decided it would be easier to just stay at home and have my own personal Sunday in the "emotional safety" of my home until I can get my emotions in check. Something got me back to church today, however, and I am so very relieved and grateful I went. I left church feeling like I had just sat through the most successful counseling session possible, and I was ready to tackle this week with my new insight and strength. I have not felt this strong in weeks. I hate to think what this next week would've been like had I not been in church today.

Something that has been weighing on my mind has been my thoughts on grief and how grief works into the Atonement. I thought that when I use the Atonement and I turn my grief and pain over to the Savior, who has already suffered it for me, my pain would be lifted and taken away from me and I would be able to go on free from the grief. This has bothered me though, and I have been reluctant to fully use the Atonement, since I want to feel my grief. I love my Tesslee and feel like by grieving for her it keeps her close to me and in my heart. My grief is tied to her. It is a part of her. And I do not want to give it up. But by feeling this way I think I am being ungrateful and faithless to my Savior for His sacrifice for me. So I have been torn and not fully committed to using the power of the Atonement to help get me through this.

One of the hymns we sang today in sacrament meeting was I Believe in Christ. As I read the words and listened to the music, my soul was touched, and the Comforter taught me something about the Atonement.

Verse 4:

I believe in Christ; he stands supreme!

From him I’ll gain my fondest dream;

And while I strive through grief and pain,
His voice is heard: “Ye shall obtain.”

I believe in Christ; so come what may,

With him I’ll stand in that great day

When on this earth he comes again

To rule among the sons of men.

 

(Hymn #134)

Text: Bruce R. McConkie, 1915–1985. © 1972 IRI

Music: John Longhurst, b. 1940. © 1985 IRI

 

As I read those lines, the Spirit spoke to my heart. It was like a thought felt inside my heart instead of in my mind. It impressed on me that using the Atonement will not take my grief and pain away. That is mine to feel and keep. I will "strive" (meaning, struggle, fight or contend) through the grief and pain of this experience probably my whole life, but the power of the Atonement (through my faith) will strengthen my soul and make my burdened heart feel light and will enable me that I can carry this. Christ can be right there with me, if I will allow Him. If there was no struggle and my grief and pain were just removed, there would be no growth, no refiner's fire, and this experience would all be in vain.

 

I thought about Tesslee, what I've been through, and how much I've learned and how far I've already come, and immediately saw the importance in the struggle of grieving. It made so much sense to me! Feeling grief is not something I should be ashamed of. It is important to grieve. It is a necessary part of opposition and growth. But it doesn't have to encompass me, the way I've felt it has lately.

 

I am so grateful I was where I needed to be today to receive this inspiration. I know that if I had stayed home and had my own personal Sunday by myself, my heart would still be troubled and I would not feel the peace and comfort the Comforter has given me. I'm starting to realize how important it is to meet together weekly, partake of the sacrament, strengthen each other, and let the Spirit speak to us and teach us in ways we can't learn on our own.

 

The final Hymn we sang today was Where Can I Turn For Peace? Every word touched my heart and I felt so grateful to have been led to these songs today. I am realizing through all of this, that my Heavenly Father is merciful and kind, and offers answers and love, even when I am undeserving of it.

 

 Where Can I Turn for Peace?

 

Where can I turn for peace?
Where is my solace
When other sources cease to make me whole?
When with a wounded heart, anger, or malice,
I draw myself apart,
Searching my soul?

Where, when my aching grows,
Where, when I languish,
Where, in my need to know, where can I run?
Where is the quiet hand to calm my anguish?
Who, who can understand?
He, only One.

He answers privately,
Reaches my reaching
In my Gethsemane, Savior and Friend.
Gentle the peace he finds for my beseeching.
Constant he is and kind,
Love without end.

                          

(Hymn #129) 

 Text: Emma Lou Thayne, b. 1924. © 1973 IRI

Music: Joleen G. Meredith, b. 1935. © 1973 IRI

Pure Joy

I cannot even describe my joy. I was looking at some pictures we took ourselves, right after Tesslee was born, and decided to crop, zoom in and explore certain things I've been really missing lately... her little hands and feet. I thought I had these pictures memorized, but when I zoomed in on her little details, it completely changed the pictures to me, and I was in Heaven just seeing what felt like new pictures of my beautiful baby!

 I just sat there staring at her precious fingers and toes, trying to feel with my mind how it would feel to hold her hand and tickle her toes again. I went to bed completely satisfied and actually giddy, after having another peek at my beautiful daughter. I laid there and thought about what indescribable joy the Resurrection will hold for all of us angel moms, when we finally(!!!!!) get to meet the babies we already know so well in our hearts and minds. I am basking in pure joy and loving every second of this thought.

 

 

Why.

Well, I would not be true to myself if did not post the feelings I've had the last few days. I've been so angry. I'm so mad that I don't have my baby with me. Why is this even a trial? Losing a baby should not even exist as a trial. It's so wrong on every level. Babies symbolize new life. They are the beginning. The end should not happen before the beginning. Why? Why would God allow me to get my hopes and dreams up, love my little girl with my entire heart, feel her kicking and alive, get our kids so excited to have another sister, when He knew we would not be bringing her home with us. He knew all along. Why? I have had so many people tell me, "You will be so much stronger after this... You are learning so much from this trial... The real test is how we choose to embrace our trials, etc..." Well, I guess I'm failing, then. I've felt so weak lately. I don't want to come out stronger, I just want my baby back.

I shouldn't be feeling like this. I know I should not blame God. I am better than this. This is so hard!