Struggling

to keep my head above the water. Struggling to stay afloat this world without Savanna. I'm tired.. tired of holding it all in. Tired of smiling at strangers as they walk by with their baby bumps and toddlers in tow. Tired of trying to convince myself I am going to be OK, that I am going to be OK. I am teetering on the edge of losing my mind and letting go of everything. I am tired of waking up everyday and being forced to make the choice to keep going. It's exhausting to sit at that front desk and smile as new couples, old couples, new families, happy families purchase their first homes. Tired of answering the phone with a fake smile on my face. Done with acting like everything is OK on the outside when everything within me has fallen to the floor and shattered into a million pieces.


I'm over it. Done with fighting my own anger, my own mood swings. Tired of bargaining and waiting. Waiting to wake up from my nightmare. I want to be done finding her mismatched socks and misplaced binkies--constant reminders of what I no longer have. I'm sick and tired. Exhausted and spread too thin. Nothing seems to go my way anymore. I have no control over anything. My daughter died. The world keeps spinning and everyone else goes on about their day. People make ignorant and insensitive comments and yet somehow think they are helping. I want to have another baby.. but nope, not going my way. Everything just sucks. And it's all sucking the energy and life from my core.


My daughter wasn't the only thing that died that day. My hopes, my dreams, my future, my normal, my heart, my soul... it all died that day. I can't find my way out of this cluster fuck of emotions and grieving. I'm just tired. Very. Very. Tired. Exhausted. Spent. Done.

And tomorrow, I'll wake up. Force myself to go through my day. Slap a stupid smile on my face. Emit a pitiful and fake laugh from my throat. Make for meaningless conversation. And yet, i will still feel like shit. I will be angry and pissed off. Sad and heartbroken. Empty and hollow. And I am tired of it.


Done. Fin.

Wanna sleep but can't.. so here I am

I wasn't going to post anything tonight. But as it is with any other night, I. can't. sleep! It's quite frustrating.. I'm exhausted and I can feel the tired building up behind my eyes. The moment I lay my head on pillow I'm wide awake and my mind begins to spin and sputter all of life's events. It's unnerving and than the act of trying to sleep to alleviate my exhaustion, well that becomes exhausting all in itself. I have tried so many tricks.. and well, here I am. J is in bed (not feeling well.. stayed out in the sun too long!) Meela in bed, Shrimp in bed.. the world is in bed.. well that's an exaggeration, but you get my drift.


I have tried Sleep-Aid, and I just feel hungover in the morning--that's just as exciting as NOT sleeping... NOT! So I tried counting.. I got up to 450 and gave up. I tried reading, I read half the book and gave up. I tried relaxing each part of my body.. my mind still wanders. I pray--than I become so involved I get upset and start searching for more answers. So, I end up tossing and turning for hours until finally I fall into a light lull.. only to be woken by a dog whinging, a cat scratching, a husband peeing, or a bladder knocking to be emptied. And than, well it takes me another hour to fall back asleep. Soooo..... I have decided to go to the doctor. I haven't taken any medication thus far... It's a great thing, and I definitely (after the given situation) do not judge ANYONE who needs it.. I know what this feels like, and if something can take the edge off even a little to keep my sanity.. well you know the answer to that.


And well, that's what it's coming down to.. my sanity. My mood swings are getting consistently more persistent, my attention span is that of a fruit fly, and my energy is way in the negative zone. I'm desperate. So I tried to call the doctor... TWICE.. it rang and rang and rang.. A sign?? Who knows.. so I guess I'll just try again on Monday.. I dont' even necessarily want sleeping meds.. something to deliver the execution to this anxiety. Each morning it's getting harder and harder to wake up and get out of bed. Each day it becomes more deafening clear this road I have to walk. Each day I am reminded of the life that I no longer have, but the life I am now forced to travel. Each day it's becoming a greater challenge to leap over that ledge. Something has got to give...


Well I end with this... Although I am struggling immensely right now.. I am digging my heels further into my faith and grabbing tighter to the ones who do get it. I am expanding my heart to the ones who are broken too.. the ones whose cracks have become gaping holes. Because my faith, my Savanna, my sisters in Christ and in loss are the ones that help me get the slight push each morning. It's a text message, a post on FB, a comment on my blog, a picture that is sent, a card in the mail.. these things always come at just the right moment. And for that I am thankful for. Those are the things that seem to make this life a little worth opening my eyes each day. My very dear sweet friend KB sent me something today. Something that truly made so much sense and I thought I would share.
  
"On this day God wants you to know... that God has an important purpose for you, and made everything possible for you to succeed. That's not to say it's an easy purpose, or a convenient one. It might very well seem hard or even impossible, but it only looks that way. The truth is that one day you will look back and see how all the pieces fit together. And how your life has been a complete and utter success."
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 Thank you KB for being such a wonderful source of strength for me. Your constant courage, fight and faith in Christ helps me to keep going. I have learned so much from you in the short amount of time we have known each other. I so look forward the the great things that will be accomplished in our baby girl''s names. I can't wait to meet sweet K one day.. (I know she won't be far from my Savanna.. they are bff's after all!!) And I look forward to growing our friendship, our sisterhood and our faith together as we walk this journey hand in hand. So much love to you my dear sweet friend!
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And here is a little memorial I got today from Emalee over at Project KJ 

I just love to see her name! Thank you!!

Check out this page to see how I am keeping her memory alive.. and how others have so graciously kept her name alive.
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And to all you other BLM's I have just connected with. I thank you all so much for your support and loving hearts. I am thankful for each and every one of you. And every night, it is my promise to you that I say a prayer for each and every one of you that the Lord fill your hearts with light, strength and courage to continue to walk this road.. And I feel truly blessed to know a little piece of each and every one of you.. You mama's, you give me hope.

Social Butterfly

First, we are trying to come up with our name for Savanna's projects (check out the poll right ----> there). Many have already voted, and it's pretty clear so far the favorite! There's still a week left to vote... I can't promise the winner will be the one, but it will give us an idea of which one is most inspiring and fitting to our purposes. :) Thanks to everyone who has voted so far!
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As an update on Shrimp... she woke us up last night scratching again.. May let her in there again. I have to go in her room in phases.. I'm fearful that the more I open and close the door, the less I will be able to smell her sweet smell.
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And now just something that's been bothering me. Another one of those things that just kind of makes me feel like I'm going crazy.. or over-thinking. I tend to do that... think things up and concoct whole scenarios in my mind only to find they are just that--concoctions. But maybe I'm not.. who knows??


Growing up, I always tried to get along with everyone. I have always been a people pleaser and always wanted to make sure everyone was happy, even if it was at the expense of making myself feel uncomfortable or sacrificing my own happiness. I was always in search of acceptance from everyone.. family, friend, complete strangers--EVERYONE. I hated confrontations and couldn't stand the thought of someone mad at me. Being this person got me in precarious predicaments and not always did they have the best outcomes for myself. But in the end, as long as everyone else was happy.. than I could manage. Well because of this person that i was, in school I got along with everyone. I had friends from all social groupings.. I wasn't perfect and I'm sure I had my share of bitch moments--but for the most part I would like to think that I tried to get along with everyone.


I had few enemies, many acquaintances, a handful of friends, and a small group of 'besties.' As I got older, and more comfortable with me, and less worried about others.. it became even easier to make friends. I could talk to anyone, make conversations with complete strangers. Than Savanna was born and I could talk to people in the mall passing by and as my confidence in myself grew, the better and more successful my relationships became. She made me proud.. It never failed, when we went to the store, we would always get stopped by at least one person. All admiring her cute little curls and sweet contagious smile, her brilliant blue eyes and sweet perfection. I was proud to call her mine, and wanted to brag to the world. Having a daughter also brought me into a new 'category.' The mommy category. I had something else in common with people, I could see future play dates and mommy shopping days in my future.

And than Savanna died. And my existence as I had known it seemed to shrivel up and die. A part of my confidence, a part of who I had become, this better new me, became a distant thought. I curled up inside of myself and got lost in the darkness. This person that I had become, the more confidant, emotionally healthy, smart, loved Tabatha vanished with Savanna's last breath and beat of her heart. The color faded from eyes and dark greys and blacks were all I could see. Friends have tried to get me to go out, meet new people. In all reality it would probably be good for me, therapeutic even. But than I think about the anticipation of that question. You know the question..

"Do you have any kids?"

"Yes I have a daughter"

"Aww, how old?"

"She would have been 10 1/2 months, but she passed away in November"

silence.

awkward silence.

"I'm so sorry. I can't imagine.. what happen?"

Insert the worst day of my life movie replay here

silence. tears. awkwardness

 "that's terrible. I'm so sorry"

the 'look'

And now I have become the debbie downer of the party with the dead daughter. FANTASTIC! Oh, and forget about mentioning her name when they talk about their kids. Her name is mentioned and the tension begins to thicken and almost becomes suffocating. I'm not afraid to say her name, or talk about her.. but others are afraid to listen or hear it. It's like I want people to know, but than I don't. Because all they remember is that she died and not that she lived. She lived for 7 1/2 beautiful months. Months that gave me a new kind of breath, a life that I was proud of. A pure joy in my heart and a healing that can never be described. Those 7 1/2 months gave me memories, laughter, smiles. That little life in 7 1/2 months gave me unconditional love. How can I hide that? How can I make them understand? But they only remember that she died...

I have found my only solace, my only comfort, to be in the company of others who share my heartache. Who know how painful this road can be. With others that can laugh with me one minute and cry the next as we talk about our babies now our angels. This is the place I feel normal. I don't feel like I have to put a smile on my face for fear of upsetting someone else just by speaking her name. I can be the me that I am now becoming. The new me. The reformed me. The mommy with the angel in heaven.

J and I met another couple who has experienced our heartache, our loss. The mama FB'd me the day after precious Savanna passed away.. and after emailing and chatting back and forth over these last few months, we were finally able to match up our schedules and meet. We met them for dinner just last weekend. I laughed and I laughed and I laughed. I talked about S they talked about K. Nothing was forced or uncomfortable. There was no awkward silence to wade through, no thickened tension to cut. I could be me and be normal. And it felt good. It wasn't exhausting or tiresome. If I had a moment I didn't want to say anything, that was OK. I could joke and say her name and it was OK. It was so refreshing. A breath of fresh air. For once I didn't feel like I was being suffocated, there were no looks to steer away from.

But others? Those that haven't walked this road? I just don't have the energy to do it. It's too exhausting to put on a fake smile and pretend that my life is just dandy. i don't think it's fair to myself.. too often am i apologizing for my reactions or the way I'm feeling. My daughter died, and I should be allowed to make choices without feeling bad or guilty. But at the end of the day, I do. I feel like sometimes I'm making this huge deal out of something that society as a whole doesn't seem to really recognize as a 'big deal.' It's been almost 4 months.. I should be over it by now, right? YEA RIGHT! I wonder who those 'experts' talked to.......

So I'm not a social butterfly anymore. I'm just not in that place right now. Maybe one day I will be again. I look forward to that day, but right now in this time in this moment, I'm OK with my little box. This little box is comfortable to me right now, being out of it suffocates me. So I'll just stay here for now. And if you're true to me, respect my grief, respect my loss, you'll be there to help me out of it when I'm ready.

She had the greatest faces

And loved her bath time

  I miss you every day little Bo; more than I could ever express in words. You taught me so much and have left an everlasting footprint on my heart. You have a piece of me forever and always. I love you!!! -Mommy

Cat Scratches

 We have a cat named Shrimp. She was the runt of the litter. I got her for J the first year we were married as a birthday gift. She was our first pet together.. our first child so to speak. And she is CRAZY!

Shrimp in the sink

Shrimp loving the new couches

She zips and she zings through the house, often using me as her springboard. She loves only J and will lay on him for hours. Don't try to pick her up because you will meet her claws. She typically wants nothing to do with me, unless I am filling her water bowl. Yet at night, she likes to sleep with her behind on my head or up under my side. She sits in the window and meows at birds, hisses at passing cats, swats at the air, and stares and nothingness floating in the air. She chases lasers and scales walls, and is NOT a fan of the dog. So she'll jump a top her tower and tease Meela.

She was an only child.. an only very spoiled child. When I got pregnant, we were concerned whether or not she would get along with new baby. If it came down to it, we all know the cat would have to go. Talking with friends and family, they all said she would be fine. They can sense that the little one is part of the family. But see, Shrimp is not most cats. Like I said, she is CRAZY! So Savanna came, and we wouldn't let Shrimp near her. I was too nervous. On a couple occasions, J would be sitting on the couch, S nestled cozily on his chest... Shrimps chest! So as Shrimp would typically do, she would attempt to jump onto the couch and spring to his chest... except there was one slight problem, it was now Savanna's chest! Needless to say there were a couple times the cat caught a hand in mid spring. It took her twice to finally look before she lept. Than one day I had laid S down for a nap and Shrimp jumped up onto the couch. I was on guard and ready, but I figured if I swatted her away everytime, she would only try harder to get closer. So I watched, with great anticipation and a bit of anxiety as she crept closer and closer, sniffing and sniffing. Not sure why I was so worried, because she plopped down right next to her, almost as if watching over her. From that moment, I knew she had made Savanna part of the family too.

As S got older and more interactive, the cat would often sit next to her while S played. She never bit, and if she playfully swatted at her, claws were always put away. It's as if she knew how delicate and fragile baby girl was.

So where does my story bring me? It brings me to this last month or so. One day I was getting ready for work and I heard a weird scratching noise, I looked.. Shrimp was sitting at Savanna's door scratching away. I shooed her off and went about my business. She did it again.. I repeated the previous process. Over the course of the next few weeks, I would catch her doing this at least once a day, sometimes two or three. I began to get a little concerned... a little freaked out actually. A friend thought that maybe it was because her door was closed, she was curious. Well, so is the bathroom door and the guest room door, and those have been left untouched. It was completely out of character for her. Another friend suggested that maybe she senses her spirit, I've heard of that... cats sensing spirits of those who have passed. Than someone else thought maybe she just missed her. So this triggered my inquisitive little mind and I did some research.


I did find a few things on cats sensing spirits, but nothing that seemed too concrete. Than I stumbled upon an article about cats missing an owner when they die. The article talked about grief symptoms that often occur in cats after an owner or fellow feline passes. First, they are probably able to sense the high emotions in the household, immediately tipping them off that something is changed. Sometimes they will get sick (and she did get a cold about 3 weeks after S died) and than once they realize the person is not there, they will begin to look for them. Shrimp was never allowed in S' room, and she knew that. On bath nights and when we would get S ready for bed, Shrimp would always try to sneak in there, or she would be sitting right at the threshold in hopes we would invite her in. So thinking about the research and the crazy cats recent behavior, I came to the conclusion, Shrimp misses S too.

The MIL had an idea, let her in there. Let her investigate and see that she's not there. Give her some closure. (Sounds weird, I know... to speak of her the way I do. But as crazy as Shrimp is, she is a part of our little family. And has aided in a bit of the healing.) So tonight, as I went through Savanna cards, we let Shrimp in to investigate. She walked around, sniffed, went under the crib, through the bars, and laid down.


So now we wait and see. So far this evening, she hasn't done it. And who knows how much truth the article holds, but it seemed a logical explanation to me. It made me realize also, that even an animals life becomes altered when one of God's blessings is given and than taken away.

Having Hope

 The beautiful and very talented Franchesca started a blog hop on hope (check out the very pretty button over there to the right--and I almost forgot to mention it will be the 19th of every month!). First of all, I wasn't sure what a 'blog hop' was, but after reading others stories and postings, I was inspired. And at the end of the day, the hope for a better tomorrow is what I have to cling to, so I decided, what the heck do I have to lose?
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The past few weeks, I have probably been very hard to live with--ask J, he'll tell you. Constant mood swings..  moments of awkward-tension-filled silence. It was very walking on egg shells around our house. Sleep depravity was starting to get the best of me, and I was emotionally, physically and mentally exhausted. The weight of the world without my Savanna weighing heavily on my shoulders, and the dreams of expanding our family once again so far out of reach. I was feeling alone and completely broken and utterly hopeless. I felt backed in to a corner, and the walls were closing in. But than last night I read a new found friend's blog (tiffany -- mama to Julius)about her journey of hope. And as my breaths tried to keep up with my fast beating heart, and the tears wetting my cheeks, my glimmer of hope seemed to seep from the tiny cracks in my heart.

Reading her words of vulnerability and raw pure emotion and than looking and reflecting at where I was in my hope journey, or the lack of hope journey; i became to open my heart a little. I prayed a lot more that night, I prayed for the Lord to give me strength and to allow me to be open with J about how I had been feeling. I prayed that he would give me calmness and the words to speak. So often when I try to express my feelings it comes out completely jibbered jabbered and jumbled. (remember what I said--verbal communication is a work in progress!) So on our drive to Dallas, I decided to take the leap, that it was time. It wasn't fair for me to keep J in the dark, after all--he can't read my mind. (Although we, as women, think they should be able to!) At the end of the day, I can't fault him if he doesn't know. So, I poured my heart out to him, I cried and cried, spoke from the heart and cried some more. I felt like I could breathe again..

For so long I felt alone, so broken. And all this time he just didn't know how to help me, how to fix it.. we're both lost and don't know how to help one another. It's not like we have done this before.. it's a new experience, a new road.. and trying to meet each other in the middle is hard work. So we continued to talk all the way to Dallas. All of our problems aren't fixed, and I know it will always be a work in progress. But that day, I was able to let the hope float to the surface. Hope that I wasn't alone, hope in my husband and best friend, the hope that when I fall he will catch me. He can't fix me, but I have hope that, together, we can put each other back together again.

Projects

Projects are good. They keep the mind working and focused on something else, which in turn burns calories! And the focus re-directs my attention to something else. Something that keeps me busy. So I do the occasional scrap booking, newly introduced to the digital scrap booking world... They make me happy, and happy is healthy--especially in these what can be very UNhappy times. Well now I have decided to take on some other projects, projects that center around my Savanna. So here they are...

One of my projects!

1. Spring for SIDS--April 29 (click here to get detailed information. ) J and I have started a team, and my employer is sponsoring us. We are planning to make SIDS ribbons and handing them out. For every $5 donation, the donater will receive a lapel sticker that they can wear on the day of the event. All of the proceeds from this even goes to the American SIDS Institute for research in the preventions of SIDS and education and family support. If you would like to make a donation in Savanna's name, click on the ribbon right over there on the right. Or you can click right here to go directly to the donation page. (our team name is Savanna's Smiles)If you want to get involved, you can start your own group, be an individual, or join in on our team! Take donations and we'll send the stickers/ribbons.

Balloon Release from her Memorial Service

2. As most of you know Miss Savanna's first Birthday in Heaven is coming up. J and I have discussed numerous times what we would do in her honor. We decided we would have a small party for her with a cake, close friends and family the Saturday before (her Birthday is on a Monday) and than on her actual day we would visit her at her spot and bring her some goodies. Well, for me, that just didn't seem enough. I am getting ready to start her memory book (another project) and I wanted something that seemed more memorable. So today, I was having a not so good day, and in my attempt to redirect my focus and energy, the Lord opened my heart and eyes to a wonderful memorial for her and what could be a new family tradition. In the coming weeks I will design and send out invitations for her Birthday.. for friends and family far and wide will be invited. With these invitations will be balloons; one for each person in the family. On her Birthday everyone will release their balloons--and all I ask is they take some pictures, maybe write a snippet of a thought or brief feeling they had, maybe something they want to tell Savanna and send it back to me. Than we can add all of that love to her book. And to think, she'll see all those balloons floating high in the sky just for her! Sooo... be looking for your balloons! And mark March 28 on your calendars! I'll start an event on FB to post reminders.. for my new friends I would love for you to be involved also! As you have become a part of my world, and my extended family now.

And another.

This seemed a fitting way to remember her.. and another tradition we can start. Another memory of her for her memory book, and another way for her future brothers/sisters to know her.


3. My next project (not my last) I have been wanting to do something carrying on her name. A legacy -- a way to imprint her footprint onto this Earth. So I started to think of that day. When we left the hospital that day November 12th, we left with a small purple box. In this box were 4 pictures, a lock of her hair, her footprints and handprints, and some brochures. It was a sweet gesture, but didn't seem very warm or comforting. The pictures were tossed in there, her hair taped to a piece of the hospitals stationary and the foot/handprints stamped onto one of the same. So I got to thinking.. How can I make this more personable.. more meaningful?

After talking with J we decided we are going to start a new kind of box. A memory box, if you will. We will include a pocket journal where parents can write their thoughts, get phone numbers of people they need, a place to put business cards of hospital staff or investigators. I remember getting so much information that day and talking to so many different people.. but did not retain much if any of it. We have wanted to go back to thank the nurses who worked so dilligantly to try and save our Savanna, but didn't know their names. This journal could be that place to put that info. So than I thought of the pictures they took of her.

They aren't pictures I want to frame around the house or put in the scrap book, but they are our last pictures of her. Because there was an investigation done, the intubation tubes had to stay in, all of it, so the pictures we have are of that. I have only looked at those pictures once, I have not willed myself to look again, and don't know that I will. But I still want them taken with care, and to know they will last through the years inside this box. So we decided we would put a small 4x6 photo album inside as well.

Next to the lock of hair, foot/hand prints. There will be a small bag attached to a more appropriate piece of stationary, along with two blank pages that can be slid into a plastic insert, keeping them better perserved. I honestly couldn't tell you how Savanna's are holding up, like I said I haven't looked in it since that night.

Lastly, we will include websites of places to go to help. Places where they can feel safe to talk to others walking this path. Websites that can help them to remember their little peas. Websites that will allow them to grieve and not feel bad for it, where being in a dark place is ok. Websites that will allow them move forward and not move 'on.' Listing of books that may be of help. And lastly, a guide to plan the funeral. I can remember in those days afterwards feeling so lost.. I can plan her birthday party, I can plan the Christmas party or the family get together--but not a funeral, and most certainly not my baby girl's funeral. A guide to at least give them some direction and to know their options.

Each box would either be for a boy or a girl, tied with a ribbon for the appropriate sex. And there will, of course, be something including keeping the memory of Little Priss alive. Than I will donate these boxes to the local hospitals. Eventually I would like to go outside of our small town city, but start small dream big right? We figured we would start with some of Savanna's money to get a head start and than start taking donations to keep it going... Once I get one box done, I will post pictures.
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Well there you have it. My three projects. I welcome any ideas or ways to maybe get started with the last one. I have never done anything like this before but am diving in head first. My good friend TC has offered to give a hand and help me on this journey. Websites, books or any other ideas would be greatly appreciated.

Well, looks like I got some work to do!


 

A couple random thoughts

I've tried to write something three times. Each time I deleted it. It didn't fit right. It felt awkward and uncomfortable. First I wanted to write about a talk I had with a friend who too walks this path. She said to me, Some days I feel like I never had her, while other days I feel like I'm waiting for her arrival. And I remember reading that sentence over and over and over again. I have felt like that so many days and could never verbalize it. It sounded so crazy in my head, and was a thought that was covered in guilt. But to hear that I was not alone in feeling that way, made me feel less crazy. Made me feel like I was kind of normal for the first time in months. Normality has become such a foreign object, I sometimes feel like a prisoner in my own skin.. I know what it feels like to cry, to hurt and to miss someone so terribly it physically hurts. Trying to find a sense of our new normal, a constant reminder of what I'm going without; what I miss most. Of course I miss all of the things you could think of, but it's the things I'm going to miss-OUT thats been bothering me lately. Milestones that every mother brags about, oogles and ahs over.
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Than I was going to write about her money; it came yesterday. I have told some, all have asked and how do you feel? Truth is, I don't really know. I'm not sure how to process it, or how to feel about it. Somewhere out there, there is a person, a person who put a dollar amount on what they feel the life should be worth. That decided there should be a dollar amount to help the families with the arrangements. All I can think, is that it's her money, we should save it, put it away for her. But than the reality of the situation sinks in like a ton of bricks and the tidal wave knocks me down again. So now we are left with the undaunting task of deciding what we will do with the life insurance money of our daughter, of our baby girl. How do you decide something like that? Spending it has guilt written all over it. We decided to just shove it in the savings account and one day we'll decide. We have ideas... but an idea is just that, an idea. To actually act on that idea.. I'm not sure how that will play out.
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So than I just decided instead that I was going to write about both of them. I wish I had amazing words. I wish I had a different story to tell. One that had more smiles, more laughter, more light. A story that was told with less tears, less dark, less anger. But this is the story of my life. and it's all I have to offer.

Savanna's Journey to Heaven

It was a Friday like any other Friday. J woke up and got ready for work, as he got out of the shower, I woke up and jumped in the shower. J left for work, and I finished getting ready. This was our routine for the last 4 months. Once I got dressed, hair done, makeup done I made a cup of coffee and got S' breakfast ready. Fruit and milk. I could hear her little gibberish over the speaker of the baby monitor. I peeked in on her and she was slowly starting to stir. I turned on her mobile and closed the door, knowing this would keep her attention for awhile bit longer as I continued to get prepared for the day.


I was so excited for this particular Friday. You see, I had been a temp at my current employer and the boss man had finally offered me a full time position. That day, I was to take more steps to initiate my spot as a real person! Than that Sunday, we were to take our family holiday photos. I was determined to send out holiday cards. I had just got her dress and we were ready to have some real family photos of the Bogue Family.

This was her Christmas Dress

Back to my day.. I finished getting her breakfast, set it on the table prepared her little highchair, then headed into her room. I walked in and turned on the light. As I looked down at her, she scrunched up her little face, hands over eyes, shielding herself from the instantaneous lightness that took over the room. She did this every morning when I turned the lights on, all the while with a smile on her face. She rolled over and looked up at me I picked her up and brought her to the closet. She would help me pick her outfits out for the days. The first thing she would touch, that's what she would wear. This day, it was a green and white striped long sleeve shirt, grey sweatpants with heart shaped buttons, and a little white winter hat. She was just getting over an ear infection and upper respiratory infection, so I needed to keep her warm! Plus, she just looked too darn adorable in those little hats to not put one on her!

Her little hat, the only thing we have that she wore that day

Well we proceeded with our morning. I changed her, got her dressed, socks, shoes, hat--check. Grabbed a bib for breakfast, extra clothes for the diaper bag and headed to the kitchen. I sat her down in her little chair, and fed her, than it was time to go. As she sat and digested, I finished packing her diaper bag for the sitter,  making sure I had enough bottles and food, clothes and bibs. Gathered up her toys and put her in the car seat. I grabbed my purse, her diaper bag, my lunch and her carrier and out the door we went.

The weekend before in her new chair!

We headed to the sitters and I turned the radio on, she talked to me as we drove. I could see her little face in the reflection of my mirror (she had a mirror for her too) and she was just smiling away. Carefree and as happy could be. We pulled up to the sitters and she was in a rush. Her daughter (who she drove) was late for school, so she grabbed S, asked me to put her bag in the house. So I did, and when I walked back out, she was strapping her in. I said goodbye to the sitter, sneaked a peak at my little munchkin, got in my car and drove away. If only I had known that was the last time I would have seen her alive, if only I had known that was the last smile I would see glowing from her face, if only I had know..., I would have kissed her goodbye and told her how much I loved her. If only I would have known I would have stayed just a moment longer. But I didn't know. And the moments of the rest of the days events would begin to spiral out of control slowly but surely.


I went to work as I usually do and carried on as I usually do. I had to take a pee test that day, all to substantiate my spot as a full time employee. So I took a late lunch and headed downtown to do that. I got back to work at around 2:00 in the afternoon. As I carried on my merry way, I was counting down the minutes. It was Friday after all and I was always excited to come home to J and S. Then a single text, a phone call, and my life as I knew it would shatter into a billion pieces right before me. It was 2:43 and I checked my phone, I had a new message from the sitter. "Come quick its an emergency" I also had 2 missed calls from her. I told my colleague, there's an emergency with Savanna and I have to go, I'll let you know what's going on. I grabbed my stuff and left. As I walked to the car, in that 3 minute walk, a million and one scenarios ran through my head. I called the sitter, and she was hysterical.. I couldn't make out a word she was saying, the only word I could make out was 'ambulance.' I ran to my car, those scenarios I had whipped up only began to play faster and harder. My hands were shaking, knees were weak, the world was spinning around me. I sped to her house, about ten minutes from my job. I called J and told him to get there now. I remember running red lights, driving through parking lots to get past people, I'm sure I made some people very angry, I can remember praying the whole way there. "God please let her be OK, let her be OK, just please let her be OK." But there was that instinctual mother feeling that something was not OK. As I pulled into the complex, my breath was sucked from my lungs as I saw a hoard of people outside, a fire truck and an ambulance. I ran to the house, the sitter standing in the hallway hysterical, the medic standing there. I'm asking for my baby, where is my baby. The medic pulls me aside.


"It appears that she may have aspirated. She was covered in vomit, wasn't breathing, but she was still warm to the touch.. now I know this is going to be difficult but I just need to get some information." What? Not breathing? Vomited? Did she choke? Where is she? I want to see her!! Can I see her? And now you want information? I just want to see her! He walked me to the ambulance and opened the back doors, stated the mother was here, there were 5 men in there, but I couldn't see her. As quickly as he opened the doors he closed them. At this point, I just though she had choked, stopped breathing.. I didn't realize the severity, or I just didn't want to admit the severity. I called J, it seemed like it was taking him forever, it was cold, I was waiting, I was scared and confused. I just wanted him to be there. He kept asking me if she was breathing, I kept telling him I think so, they said she was warm I don't remember. So I got off the phone, and I asked him, is she breathing. No. The walls of the world seemed to implode around me the sky seemed to disappear, noises and sounds emerged from the center of my being. The ambulance left, sirens blaring and I shuddered at that sound. You always hear the sirens, you never think it's going to be for someone  you love, someone whose life is so precious.

I stood there and waited for J, I called my mom in a panic not knowing what to do. She had as many questions as I did, and was completely terrified. In that moment, I felt horrible for calling her out of the blue while she was at work, and all I could tell her is that her granddaughter is not breathing and that's all I know. I continued to sit there, and finally, I saw J's truck. I ran to him in the parking lot, got in and we proceeded to follow the fire truck to the hospital. It seemed an eternity to get there. J was making phone calls and I called SB and told her what was going on, she tried to calm me, to tell me it was going to be OK, to tell me to pray. And I did, prayed so hard, harder than I ever have. But somehow I knew it was not going to be OK.

We finally arrived at the hospital. Walked into the ER. They immediately knew what we were there for. They walked us into this room off to the side. The charge nurse walked in followed behind her was the chaplain. J said, honey it's just a precaution.. Precaution my ass! I remember just saying "no, no, no" over and over again. The nurse had these eyes, and this look.. eyes and a look that I see in every person that comes to know our story. Eyes and a look that are forever burned into my memories. She took my hand and began to talk. I know she was speaking in clear and concise sentences all I could hear were snippets. 'She was warm' 'Asperated' '30-45 minutes w/o a pulse' 'Trauma team waiting' Somewhere within those sentences, those words forever changed my life, my legs gave out and I was on the floor. I was sobbing, I felt so sick to my stomach I wanted to throw up. I was sweating and shaking, inconceivable thoughts running through my head, my heart feeling ripped from my chest leaving it open for the world to kick at. "Do you want to see her?"

Slowly they picked me up, the chaplain started muttering words to us, I couldn't understand him, it was all a jumble a maze of words escaping his mouth. I'm sure he was praying, praying with us, and for us. We walked what seemed the forbidden road, the path to a life I didn't want any part of. As we walked, I could feel those eyes and those looks, they knew we were the parents of the tiny infant baby girl. We were the ones who were dealt these cards. They walked us into a room and there she was. A team of people surrounding her. Tubes in her mouth, her nose, patches all over her of where they were monitoring her vitals. They pulled a chair up right next to her and I sat with J standing at my side. I imagined it like you see in the movies or the miraculous stories you read in the paper. She would feel my touch and hear my voice, and open her eyes and it would be a medical mystery and we would be out of the hospital and back at home. But it didn't happen like that. Her color had changed, her body lifeless. I reached for her hand hoping it would grab me back, but nothing. I caressed her hair and started talking to her, wishing her life back into her body, praying for a miracle, closing my eyes and opening them in hopes I would open my eyes and be at work. This was just a terrible terrible dream. But it wasn't it was real. There was no response from her, they continued to do CPR, machines all around, medicine being injected into her IV. No response. I can remember just crying, telling her to come back to me, whispering in her ear, caressing her curls, holding her hand, looking up at the doctor and nurses willing them to bring her back. Somewhere in that time frame, the doctor reached across the gurney, across her body and placed his hand on mine. I peered up into his eyes, those eyes and that look as he spoke the words. "I'm so sorry honey, but the prognosis is not good." I crumbled, up to that point I still had a smidgen of hope, a prayer left in me that she could come back to us. But the reality of it all was that she had gone too long without oxygen and it had been, as far as they knew, at least an hour without a pulse. J leaned down and whispered in my ear, tears in his eyes, pain in his voice, baby she's gone.

The weekend before

Slowly the room dissipated, leaving a couple nurses, J, me and the chaplain in the room. Later I found out that the doctor looked to him once he told us the news. Looked at J to make the decision to stop. I couldn't imagine being the one to give the OK to the doctor to let his baby girl go, to just stop. My heart kept breaking over and over as I sat there and stared at her. They asked me if I wanted to hold her, and I did. The green and white striped sweatshirt had been cut from her, her sweatpants in tatters beneath her. Only one sock she had left on. I remember J in and out of the room, I remember talking to people, telling the horrific story that my daughter is dead over and over. It was a sick and twisted game. It felt like mean joke. I held her, J held her. We cried, we cried together, we comforted each other, we held each other, we held her. We stared at her. A detective came in, told us, with those eyes, how sorry he was. And as protocol with any infant death there would be an investigation. There would be questioning, an autopsy, toxicology tests ran, that room was now a crime scene, her clothes were part of evidence, the tubes would have to stay, the wires would remain. I remember just nodding, I wanted to know what happened. She was so healthy, so perfect, reaching all her milestones, so happy... but here she was dead. And they had no clue why.


They would have to take pictures, take evidence, they were questioning the baby sitter and would question each of us individually, they questioned us as the 'victims' parents. We walked out of the room, I needed air, I needed to breathe something other than the walls of that hospital. We walked into the family room to be overwhelmed by the people that had to come to support us. We don't have much out here, we just moved. But all of J's buddies and supervisors from work came and they hugged us some prayed with us. We went outside to breath some air, to try to make some realistic sense out of everything. The pain was thriving inside me and I was numb one minute, angry the next. J's cousin and wife came. And hugged us, talked with us. All the while the whole movie of the day replaying itself in my mind. We went back in to her room several times, after they cleaned up the area and had wrapped her up in the little sheet. I held her, her skin starting to grow cold and my heart and body giving in to the pain. I sat there with her, and I rocked her, the mommy rock. And I just talked to her. I touched her toes and her fingers, trying to take in every detail, every wrinkle, every roll. Stroked her hair and her eyes, never wanting to forget. I tried to smell her, only remnants of the hospital air left on her precious little body. J held her too, a daddy so broken holding and looking at his daughter in his arms. A picture that should only bring joy to my heart, instead it was pain and heartache. It was anger and hatred. It just wasn't right. So the night continued on, we were each questioned individually, the events that had transpired from that Monday up until that day. We each got through that. They went in took pictures of her, took foot prints, hand prints, and took a lock of her hair. They placed all of these things into a little purple box.

The last picture we have of her alive. Taken 11.11.10

The night was coming to an end. The moment of the goodbye slowly creeping closer. I dreaded this moment.. even though I didn't spend every moment with her in that room, I knew she was close and I could go in and see her at any moment. In some twisted way, that made it a little OK. But leaving and going home, home to a house with no baby laughs, no crying, no bottles or dirty diapers, that was a nasty reality I didn't want to face. That moment came though, and we had to say goodbye. I held her so close and so tight. I squeezed her and kissed her, rubbed her feet and her toes, twisted her fingers in mine, smoothed out her hair. I handed her to J, he than handed her to his cousin. It was like time froze in these moments. The reality of it all so far reached.. how could this be us? How could this be me? What did I do to get dealt these cards? It's not fair, and it's not right. She was only 7 1/2 months old. Well, I finally got to hold her one last time. I rocked her for the last time, hugged her for the last time, and kissed her for the last time. I told her I loved her and laid her on the bed. And than we walked out the doors with her to our backs, J and I hand in hand, and a little purple box. A little box, memories, pictures and videos, that's all we have left our little Savanna.

I forgot.. But it's a love day..

I love good days. I love days that I laugh, smile, joke and feel somewhat normal. I love days that I shop. I love girl days.. go out to eat, grab some ice cream, and shop-shop-shop! I love days where the sun shines warm and bright upon my skin. I love days that Meela likes to snuggle. I love days when the house is clean. I love the days that I wake up with a smile on my face. These days that I love seem to be so close yet so far out of reach Today was a day that I loved.. something ironic though. With the intensity of the weather with the past few weeks, the preparation for Savanna's stone, the planning for our rain-checked trip to Dallas, my wisdom tooth surgery, and everyday insanity... I forgot. We forgot. J text me about 830 PM, he was out with the boys, I was with TC. A single text.. It's been 3 months. How could I have forgotten? I was having such a love day.. a kind of day that doesn't happen too often. Today was her 3 month angel-versary. And I paid no tribute to it until the day that I had loved was nearly over.


Did I think of her today? Of course! Did I miss her? Naturally! But it's been 3 months without her breath and beating heart next to mine, and I forgot. Remember that nasty guilt thing? Yup, it crept it's way inside the hole in my heart.. shoving all other feelings aside trying to take it's place. I looked at my good friend T and said, it's been 3 months, and we forgot. She looked at me, I looked at her, I took a deep breath and we carried on. All the while, my heart was sinking, my head was spinning, and I had to re-focus. The world keeps going, my heart, although broken, continues to beat. And I realized something.


My love days are so hard to come by. Do I give that up because I forgot? Does that make me a terrible mom? Does it mean I love her less? I don't think so... I think my Savanna was present with me today and helped me have a love day. She knew how tough the reality of the thoughts of this day would replicate, and instead she shifted my attentions to other things. And so, after I re-shifted, pushed out the guilt, shielded the darkness and picked up the tattered strings, I kept going. It was still a push and pull. And as I sit here now in the quiet of the house, with the heat blowing and the tapping of the keys, I can feel the darkness slowly covering over me. But you know what? I had a love this day, and I had a love day with Savanna alongside me.. in my heart, in my mind, in my memories, in my soul. And next to her heart beating with mine, it just can't get any better than that.

Laid to rest

Her headstone came in. They set it today. We weren't able to be there. I was upset about that. But than, after talking to SB she made a valid point. There probably isn't anything really ceremonious about it, it's matter of fact.. they dig a hole, they set the stone, they fill it.. task completed. I'm sure if we were there, they would handle it with more care, but how sensitive can you be about digging a hole. It is beautiful though. J's dad went to check on it, check on her. He took a picture and sent it to J who sent to me. When I found out it had finally come there was a rush of emotions. That seems to be continuity with me doesn't it? Bum rush of feelings? But it is my reality.


My initial thought was excited. How twisted is that? I'm excited that my 7 1/2 month old daughters headstone has arrived... that doesn't seem to fit right, doesn't seem natural. But it's so much deeper than that.. excitement is a terrible word. There really is not a specific word to describe it, at least not any singular word. But there were thoughts, and a process in my mind that helped me to cope with this oncoming event. Besides the fact that this chunk of marble and stone makes it a reality that S is no longer here, I am reaching a point of submission. I am giving in to the fact that she is here... acceptance, submission, agreeance. It is done. It's one less thing that we have to 'deal' with.. it makes it more bearable now to try to live 'with' this. It also sets her place.


Before the stone came her spot was marked, row this column that plot #... It was an ugly heart numbing mound of dirt. The dirt signifying my daughter no longer with me, the mound symbolizing the constant lump in my throat, the marker-less spot showing the whole in my heart. Flowers from her funeral gone, blanket from Christmas removed... But now, now she is marked. Now the world will know where my little girl has been laid to rest. Now I can lay her to rest. This stone, this marble, these dates, all signify so much more than just marking her spot. It allows me to release the breaths I have been holding, the agony I have endured. I know that it won't make the pain go away.. nothing will do that and certainly not a hunk of material. But... it is a beautiful piece of art, hand carved thoughtfully crafted with precision and care. Thoughtful and careful choosing done by J and I. And it turned out perfect. Perfect? Maybe that's not the proper term, but when your world has shifted and your equilibrium has been knocked off balance, you tend to see things in a different light. It is a perfect marker with perfect words with a perfect picture to announce my perfect daughter. I can rest a little easier, breathe a little more steadily. Another piece of me has been pulled a little closer back to its home in my heart.

It's no longer just an eye sore, a mound of dirt, emotionless spot on a hill. It's her spot now, it's my Savanna's spot. No one can take that from me, I can always go there, and there she will be.

guilt, grief and a little of everything else.

Guilt is an ugly nasty word. It's a parasite, a leech that grabs on and sucks the life from your very being. It's something that will eat a hole through the center of your soul. Guilt is a black hole of pain, misery, intolerable heartache, and leaves questions and blame open season to anger. I would be lying to myself if I said I didn't have any guilt. Truth be told, I am filled to the rim with it along with all of the other emotions and feelings that continuously claw their way through my pores. Most of those feelings I want to keep trapped and shut away into the forbidden closet stored at the back of my mind. As the minutes trickle by, hours draw on, and days dwindle by... I am forced to release these monsters from their hiding place. The 'grief' becomes comfortable, a safe place to feel. It becomes a new home in a way, because as long as I can hold onto it, I'm somehow holding onto Savanna, I'm somehow still living with her and not moving on without her.

It seems a constant theme when I read the words of others who have lost, talk to our families who grieve with us, friends whose hearts break with ours, strangers that try to imagine the pain... guilt. As much as I fight the guilty battle, it always seems to peek out amongst the other emotions. I feel guilt that I didn't stay home with her, I could have had more time. Guilt that the babysitter spent more time with her during the weeks than I did. I know in my heart it wouldn't have changed the outcome... but if only I would have had a little more time. Another moment that I can put into my memory bank of a day I held her more, or another diaper I changed. I even feel the guilt over the smallest of scenarios. I didn't get her 6 month pictures taken (she wasn't quite sitting up yet) in hopes that by 9 months she would be sitting up. She died when she was 7 1/2 months. I felt such a connection with her pictures. It's my last link to her, a reminder of how wonderfully blessed our lives were. It is also the way that rekindles my memories. Days where I try to remember her little toes, or the way she would shape her little fingers over her paci--I can look back at those pictures, those snapshots of her life and be brought back to that moment.

When she was still here I would look back at pictures and say 'oh she was 3 months, or hours old, or that was just this morning.' Now when I look back at pictures a new perspective takes place, that one was the day before she died, this one was taken the weekend before it happened, this one over here was a month before she passed. A different kind of milestone has transpired, a milestone that burns and angers, a milestone that shouldn't even be.


I remember in the weeks after her passing, arranging her funeral, organizing the memorial service, I remember being so angry with her. Angry that she left me to make these decisions, she should be making these decisions about me for my funeral (many years down the road). And than in the same slice of thought that I was angry with her, I would be overcome by guilt. The guilt of being angry with her, it's not her fault, and yet here I was day in and day out angry that she left me, hurt that my heart was empty, saddened by the tornado that twisted and turned down my life as its path. I was angry with God for giving her to me and than taking her back. Than the guilt again would settle in, He knew we were strong that we were able to handle this, that's why she picked us. But I don't want to be strong, I don't want to be the one to handle it.


It's a back and forth struggle trying to make sense of it all. I'm beginning to get to a point where I have just stopped trying, trying is so exhausting. So I go through the motions and lock those feelings back into the forbidden closet. They don't jump out at me as much as they did in the beginning, I seem to have better control over them, the movie doesn't seem to play as often. Is that just me refusing to see, to deal? I don't know...

This 'process' of 'grief'... I don't like it. I am not a process.. I am a lost mommy who has empty arms and spinning thoughts. I am a heartbroken woman with an emptiness that can never be fulfilled. There is no process about it.. processes have endings, they have a conclusion and solution; a beginning, middle and end. I'm stuck somewhere between beginning and middle, and whether or not I'll ever make it to somewhere in between middle and end I don't know. I do know that there is no end  though, I will always hurt for her, ache for her, feel empty without her. Yet I know there is a continuation. Life goes on, the world keeps spinning. I know I don't have to feel guilty anymore, I know that I will 'grieve' for her for the rest of my life. I'm trying to move forward and manage without feeling guilty. I want to smile and laugh and feel fulfilled. I want to be whole again. But with those wants comes the guilt and the regret.


So I am here to say. There are no labels, no processes. I am a mother who is lost, and has suffered loss.. but I am not a process... I am a mommy who was once whole and is now broken, I am a wife who cries with her husband, laughs with her husband, recalls memories of their beloved daughter. I am a daughter who falls back into her mom and dads never judging embrace, I am a friend who will listen and be listened to. I am Tabatha. I am not a label--I am not a process. I am mother to Savanna-Wife to J-Daughter to B&R-Friend to all. That is what I am.

A Good Day

So I have noticed, as I peruse through old postings, it seems I am mostly drawn to the keys of the computer and this text box when I'm feeling less than thrilled to be walking the earth without my baby girl. So I have decided, that this post will be full of light less, WAY less darkness. Because today was a good day. A REALLY good day. And my good days are few and far in between it seems. At least the days that are good from beginning to end. So I have the urge to share it. It was nothing short of spectacular, but for me it was a breath of fresh air. So many of you have joined me through my journey of the darkness, sadness, pain and heartache. Today, I urge you join me on this day of laughter, happiness, and even a little bit of actual joy. Today made me realize that one day, eventually, I will really be OK.



Like I said previously, there was really nothing about this day that was extraordinary. Sure I had my sad moments, but they were quickly brushed away by the happy ones. First off, J had to work today. (boo to the snow and ice that gave him 3 days off, but took away our weekend!) I faintly remember him kissing me on the forehead on  his way out the door, a noise came out of my mouth, a grunt maybe, a mumble. In my mind I said 'I love you' he responded with something back, but than I fell back into my comatose sleep. I awoke at 930 feeling refreshed. I woke up went pee, let Meela out, checked my Facebook, checked my email, checked my blog and cruised the net.... IN BED! It was fantastic... I had music playing in the background and I was sitting in my PJ's without an agenda. I than came to find that the kids I coached for were performing, and the competition was getting streamed live on the internet. (Oh how I love you internet) So I got to giddily watch my kids perform. Those kids, that program, those coaches will forever always have a little piece of me, and made me feel as if I were back there again. I'm sure if the windows were open the neighbors would think I was nuts... cheering them on, hootin' and hollerin'. In the aftermath, I was pretty embarrassed for myself.

All the goodies I got today

So I watched a little more, than I decided I would take a shower--so I did, naturally. At this point it was a little after 1230, yes folks that's right 1230--which means I stayed IN be IN my PJ's for 3 hours! :) It was wonderful. After my shower I decided I wanted to get out of the house. Besides going to work, I have been cooped up in the house since Monday evening. And for those of you that know J and I, we are not a coop up in the house kind of people! So I went to PetsMart and got Miss Meela May her dog food, headed to Michael's and got scrap booking goodies, headed to Hobby Lobby to get MORE scrap booking goodies,dashed over Taco Bell (I don't care if they don't use real beef!) and got me some yum yum for my tum tum. I than proceeded to go home. I received a text from the hunny that he was on his way home too!

J's new bible and case

My new case

So I arrived home to Mr. J already there... I showed him my goodies, he rolled his eyes and we laughed. He made fun of me I poked fun at him, he changed out of his uniform, and we got back on the road. (remember what I said? We are not a stay in the house cooped up kinda people) We headed over to Mardel's--the coolest store ever! J got a new bible (his old one got ruined!) and a case for it, I bought a book and a case for my bible. Next on the stop was Academy (only J's most favoritest store EVER) and looked around. Than it was over to Dollar Tree. If you have never been there.. you MUST go.. everything really is $1!!! We got Meela some raw hides (that's the new spot for those fun things!) and than it was time to head to dinner. We went on a little dinner to date to my ever so favorite Texas Roadhouse! We both enjoyed an alcoholic beverage.. I had a salad and J some ribs. And we took our time and enjoyed our meal. Than it was destination: home bound.

Once we got back we unloaded and I started scrap booking! I find it so relaxing and fun.. always brings back the memories from those little snippets in time. J watched TV, I scrap booked... it was a perfect end to a wonderful day. J headed to bed (he has to work again tomorrow!) I cleaned up the horrendous mess I made with stickers, paper, scissors and glue, and now here I sit clicking away at the keyboard, sharing my adventures. And that was my day! Like I said, nothing short of spectacular, probably very average, boring day for the average Joe.. but for me it was spectacular. It was a day for me, a day for J and me a day that I could smile.

These are all of the pages I did tonight

As I went through my day I still thought about her. I still miss her and I still wish she were here with me. But rather than the darkness settling in as I thought of her it was light. Rather than tears, the memories and the moments brought joy. As the darkness tried to creep in I forcefully pushed it away. Today was my day, a day for me.. and I refused to let the shadows overpower me. Perhaps my Savanna was giving me an extra push today and used her little angel power dust on me. She knew how badly I needed it, I needed a break from the pressures and the dark. So although it may have just been an average day to most, to me it was a wonderfully fantastical kind of day. It was a day with no dark and a great deal of hope. Hope and peace that is reassuring and inspires me to keep going. You know the saying don't you? "One wo/man's junk is another wo/man's treasure." Well I have re-mixed it "One wo/man's average day is another wo/man's stupendously awesome day." never take the average days for granted. Open not just your eyes, but your hearts, breathe in the beauty and soak up the warmth. Those tiny small moments in time are so precious and dear. And remember, once this minute has passed, it's gone and you can't get it back. They say to treat every day like it's your last--I say treat everyday like it's your first.

And now, tonight, I will lay my head upon my pillow and hope that I will awake tomorrow with the same light and the same renewal. I never know if I'm going to, not until I open my eyes and swing my legs over the ledge preparing to leap off. Each day I take that leap. I take that leap for Savanna,  and I take it because she's worth it.

Not just a Blog

I have never been good with spoken words. It always seems to make such great sense in my mind, but somewhere along the path from brain to to mouth, the synapses and neurons get all tangled and what I originally though is not what is coming out of my mouth. When I get upset or angry I shut down, communication is a constant mechanism it seems I am forever 'working' on. So I turn to written words. I do not claim to be a 'writer' or a novelist. My vocabulary is far from exemplary, grammatical skills are sometimes embarrassing, and my grasp of metaphors and analogies seem jumbled. And yet, with the recent struggles, trials and tribulations that have stumbled into my life... the written words seem to flow. My fingers quickly graze across the keys as a I spill my every thought out to the world. I become vulnerable, and in ways I cannot verbally express myself, I can on paper. There is no stuttering, no back tracking, no questioning.. it is what it is.




English was one of my least favorite subjects. 'Essay' became my mortal enemy. Literary circles, foreshadowing and symbolism became a nightmare. And yet, here I am tap tap tapping away, and here is where I feel most comfortable. There are no sad eyes staring back at me, no muffled tears from those around, no tension or awkward silence. It's just me and my keyboard. A blank canvas. A non-judging means to allow myself to express myself. I don't have to comfort anyone, I don't even have to comfort myself. I allow myself to open up the wounds, let the pain drip from my fingertips. And all the while, I am in hopes upon hopes that I can help someone else.



There is another side to me on these postings. I feel that I am able to truly be who I am. Through my daily activities, I try to put on a good face, a happy smile. Sometimes it's genuine, it's real true laughter but most of the time it's forced. But here, I can remind the world, and myself, that there are still sporadic pieces of me floating around on the inside. I'm not sure if they'll ever really get put back together. But through this blog and through my written words, I think I've at least pulled them in the right direction. 


So this place, this post, this website, this blog is not just a blog. It's a structural piece of me. A piece that has glued the thoughts back together in my brain. It is a piece that has guided me along and waded through the muddy murky waters. It hasn't 'fixed' me, I know for certain I'm just not fixable, but I am mend-able. And the Lord has allowed me the opportunity to have written words, for he knows my lacking in speech! So kudos to you God for allowing me the opportunity to pour my heart and soul to the world. And for helping me find the glue that will hopefully, one day, mend me back together.

To My Sweet Baby Girl,

It seemed there were signs all around us.

The snow was falling, the wind was roaring, the cold could cut you like glass. And as I woke up to this beautiful blanket of snow, my thoughts of you stayed near. How I longed to have you near me, to see that sparkle in your eyes as you watch the snow fall. As beautiful as it is here on earth, I can only dream of what a snow day would look like in Heaven! :) I miss you always but most at these moments. Moments where I know it would be such a milestone for you, although you wouldn't remember your first snow day, I would. Instead though I'm left to thinking what it would be like. You're daddy wanted to build a snowman yesterday, part of me didn't want to. I wanted to build a snowman with you. You loved the outdoors and I can only imagine you as you would take in each detail of the scenery. 

I wish I wasn't sitting here day after day just left with past memories. Oh how I wish I wasn't left to ponder how you might react, or what you might do. I wish I could see the real you, but the reality is is that you're gone from me. Gone from my arms. And each day it becomes more painstakingly clear, the reality settles in and the hole in my heart becomes more permanent. I know that you wouldn't want me to hurt, to cry for you. Some days I can't help it, the tears fall and I am torn to pieces as I am left to breathe each day without your breath and beating heart next to me. But I know I did the hardest part, your daddy and I made it through the worst of the worst. Now we're just managing through the pain and trying everyday to keep your memory alive. 

They told me from the beginning it would help to write a letter to you. It's been almost three months and this is the first time I am doing it. A part of me in the beginning felt it was stupid, an empty action. What good will that do? It won't bring you back! But now, I yearn so badly to be close to you that I feel that maybe this is the only way I can hang onto your image; to your spirit. The sound of your laughter and your little squeaks have started to die a little from my memory. So I watched your videos. And it renewed me, it opened my mind back up, brought me back to those moments. My sweet Savanna, it pains me to know that you left me, and I'm so jealous of the Heavens. The worlds most spectacular angel has been bestowed upon them, only I'm left here without. 

We are going this weekend (if the weather allows) to visit you in your resting place. I know you're really not there, but somehow it gives me some comfort to know I am close by you in body. Help me continue on my little Bo, help your G-ma, G-pa, Gigi & Grumps to get through the days with peace and hope. Keep the laughter in their lives, for I know they miss you so terribly much. Wash away their guilt they may have and with the Lord as your guide keep away their dark shadows. The shadows are heavy, but I know you're stronger. Watch over the rest of the family and all of our friends. You may have left this world in body but you continue to stamp your tiny footprint on all of their hearts. Only the Lord knew what an impact your tiny little being would leave on this Earth. 

Most of all my sweet sweet Savanna. Watch over your daddy. He misses you so terribly. With the Lord as your guide, find him some peace and comfort. Allow the Lord to wash his blessings over him. And you, my little miss, you make sure to stay a constant presence in your daddy's heart. 

We can't wait to meet once again with you baby girl. For us, it seems an eternity, for you it will be in a blink of an eye. I can't wait to write to you again. You be a good girl, until next time. My breath is your breath, my heart beating is yours, I gave you breath, but you gave me life. I love you sweet baby.

Mommy