A long time, but, still like yesterday...

It has been such a long time since I have written on my blog.  So much has happened and still so much is still the same!!  Why do I write today?  Many reasons.  Writing on my blog was a way to remember and make a journal of my family.  Maybe something I said would help someone, make their day brighter  It helped me.  So, regardless of how many people may take the time to read what I have to say, I want to leave something of me for my kids.  So, hopefully I will be able to type something on a more regular basis.  Hopefully I will have something to say that makes sense!!

Today I want to share about something that actually makes me sad.  I am usually a pretty happy person and try to look at the positives in life.  But, some memories and thoughts are sad.  October 15th is  national pregnancy and infant loss awareness day.   15 years ago on April 23rd at around 6am, our little girl Emma Rose was born. The day before had started off with such hope and happiness.  Many of us know just how quickly that can change.  With us it was a ultrasound and no movement.  No heart beat.  How could that be when I had been so careful?  I was full term, how could that be?

The years have passed.  I no longer think of Emma as a baby.  I think of her as a teenager and let myself wonder at different times, what would she be like?  I see a girl with long wavy hair and maybe a dimple in her cheek.  I see her playing the piano just like her brothers and sister.  What other instruments would she play?  Would she like soccer like Sam or art like Jessica?  Would she enjoy babysitting her nephews?  I see a girl with a kind heart and a gentle soul.  

Today, I have let my mind wander and wonder as I sat and waited for Sam to finish his therapies.  As Sam and I made a quick trip to the grocery store for a few items for dinner tonight and for mini marshmallows for our science experiment this afternoon, my mind wandered and wondered.  As we talked about trains and pizza, my mind wandered and wondered.

Emma and Sam would have been great friends.  They are 18 months apart.  I think Emma would have helped draw Sam into her world, his guide.  I think she would have jumped into his world and made autism a bit less scary for him - and others.  

Many years ago I had gone to the mall one evening, I had Sam with me, but, everyone else was at church activities.  I remember looking back in the rear view mirror at Sam in his car seat and my thought was, "There should be two."  My very next thought was, "Yes, but you are happy."  There was a time after Emma died that I thought I would never be happy again, joy was something lost to me.  But, happiness came back.  Yes, there should be Joshua, Jessica, Emma and Sam.  But, there isn't.  The important thing is that there will be.  I know with all my heart that when this life is done, I will hold my girl.  We need to have hope and faith.  In despair and even when my mind wanders and wonders, hope and faith shine through.

We need to get a family picture with our beautiful Zachary aka Taco!!!

Yesterday.......

We had a birthday in our family yesterday.

I wasn't going to post anything.

I was going to let it pass.

But, I can't.

I am her Mum.

So, I will post today.

Ten years seems such a long time.

I still cry, I still remember

 

Emma's Name in the Sand

 



A Crappy Day & Burned Biscuits

Yesterday was a fairly crappy day.

I keep hoping that each year will get easier when the 23rd of April rolls around.

I guess in the grand scheme of things, it is easier in many aspects, but it still hurts. 

The physical pain isn't there, and the emotional pain isn't so raw.

But, many of the feelings and emotions still come to the surface.  Just......duller.

I still grieve for my Mum, Dad and brother at different times, but it is different than my grief for Emma.

On the 23rd April, 2004 I felt completely alone and engulfed in the despair of losing a child.  Every year that comes back.  Like I said, it is duller, but it is there.

The feelings pass and the knowledge that families are eternal is always a constant source of comfort.

I love this.....

A friend posted the following on face book.

It reminded me of something my mother shared years ago about some good family friends.  Just something very simple, but, it stuck with me.  My Mum told me that no matter what Anne put on the table for dinner every night, Mike always thanked her for the meal.  Never complained if it was something he didn't like or if the recipe hadn't turned out as expected.

I am blessed that Jim follows that same philosophy.

Burned Biscuits - and the lesson we all should learn

 When I was a kid, my Mom liked to make breakfast food for dinner every now and then. I remember one night in particular when she had made breakfast after a long, hard day at work. On that evening so long ago, my Mom placed a plate of eggs, sausage and extremely burned biscuits in front of my dad. I remember waiting to see if anyone noticed!  All my dad did was reach for his biscuit, smile at my Mom and ask me how my day was at school. I don't remember what I told him that night, but I do remember watching him smear butter and jelly on that ugly burned biscuit. He ate every bite of that thing...never made a face nor uttered a word about it!

When I got up from the table that evening, I remember hearing my Mom apologize to my dad for burning the biscuits. And I'll never forget what he said, "Honey, I love burned biscuits every now and then."

Later that night, I went to kiss Daddy good night and I asked him if he really liked his biscuits burned. He wrapped me in his arms and said, "Your Mom put in a hard day at work today and she's real tired. And besides--a little burned biscuit never hurt anyone!"
As I've grown older, I've thought about that many times. Life is full of imperfect things and imperfect people.  I'm not the best at hardly anything, and I forget birthdays and anniversaries just like everyone else. But what I've learned over the years is that learning to accept each other's faults and choosing to celebrate each other’s differences is one of the most important keys to creating a healthy, growing, and lasting relationship.

And that's my prayer for you today...that you will learn to take the good, the bad, and the ugly parts of your life and lay them at the feet of the Divine Creator. Because in the end, He's the only One who will be able to give you a relationship where a burnt biscuit isn't a deal-breaker!

We could extend this to any relationship. In fact, understanding is the base of any relationship, be it a husband-wife or parent-child or friendship!

"Don't put the key to your happiness in someone else's pocket--keep it in your own."
So, please pass me a biscuit, and yes, the burned one will do just fine.
And PLEASE pass this along to someone who has enriched your life--

and remember to be kinder than necessary because everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.

 

Sally-Ann

Emma

Just looked at the date, and it hit me with a shock.

Tomorrow will be the 23rd April.

That date should be a date that I look forward to every year.

One to be celebrated.

One to be remembered with joy.

But, I don't.

It is a date that brings tears to my eyes.

Tears that eventually run down my face.

Will this date ever be any different?

I don't think so.

 Tomorrow would have been Emma's 9th birthday.

April 23rd

On Monday, April 23rd, 2012, we were having a fun time together as a family.  We were in Utah for Joshua's graduation and wanted to spend some time together before we left the next day.  Joshua had a job interview in the morning, so after he was done we went to the new mall in downtown Salt Lake to grab a bite to eat and to let Samuel ride up and down all the escalators one more time. 

Then we headed off to This Is The Place Heritage Park

It was a fun time wandering around.  Sam had fun because there was a little train that took you around.
But, my mind kept turning back the time to another April 23rd.
Eight years ago.
Could it really be eight years?
It doesn't seem possible to me.
What a contrast this April 23rd was to the one eight years ago.

Today as I was driving home from dropping Sam off at school, the tears started to flow.
Tears that I wouldn't let come this past Monday........

I usually visit Emma's grave once a week.
It is peaceful there.
The birds are usually chirping and there is sometimes a nice breeze.
We choose to keep Emma's graveside very simple.  No plastic flowers or whirly gigs.
Nothing that fades in the harsh Florida sun or is ruined by the elements.
On her birthday, Mother's Day, Father's Day and other special occasions, we choose to place a simple rose.  We know that it will wilt quickly in the heat, but we pick the most beautiful rose we can find.
This just seems right to us.

This year has been particularly hard for me.  I think it is because this would have been one of those milestone years.  Emma would have been baptized this year.
I close my eyes and I can imagine her standing here in her white dress.
No time for tears or "what if".
I know we will be together again as a family.
That promise is what brings joy to a broken heart.

That, and.........

heading off to get Sam from school, give him an extra hug and buy him fries and a chocolate milkshake without  a cherry...........

Remembering

I originally posted this on April 23rd, 2010, but thought I would re-post it today for Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.  Although the memory of loss can bring pain and dredge up grief, as a mother I don't want my child's memory to dim. She is my child and I love her as dearly as I love all my children.  Sometimes I hesitate when someone asks me how many children do I have.  Do I want to explain to this person?  So, sometimes I say three, sometimes four, and yet other times I will say, "Three living, and we lost a little girl."  But, regardless, the name Emma Rose brings a smile to my heart and a longing to hold her in my arms.

23rd April, our little girl Emma would have been 6-years-old if she had lived.

Emma was a big surprise. We had been trying for 12 years to have another baby. I had finally resolved in my heart that we were only going to have two children. A friend of mine had just found out she was pregnant, and for the first time in recent memory, I didn't get that little twinge in my heart when she announced her pregnancy. The first few weeks were a little rough. Through and ultra-sound we discovered that I was pregnant with not one, but three babies. Unfortunately, a heartbeat was never found on two of the babies and they just gradually faded away each week until they no longer showed on the ultra-sound. Emma continued to grow and thrive. I was a high risk pregnancy - forty-one, diabetic, high blood pressure and overweight. Every week I went to the doctor, tried to do everything they instructed me to the letter. Everything went along great. We chose not to have any of the testing done for birth defects, etc. At 8 1/2 months I went to have a amnio done at the hospital. Emma was measuring over 9lbs, so the doctors thought it might be wise to induce. The amnio was to check her lung development. The day before I had been at the doctors for my usual weekly appointment. I had a non-stress test which was normal. I also had an ultra-sound because Emma had been breech and if she still was, they would schedule me for a C Section the next day. During the non-stress test however, Emma had turned around and was head down.

The next day I woke up feeling extremely nauseated, but thought it was just nerves because I absolutely hate needles. We went to the hospital and there we received the most devastating news of our lives. Our excitement and joy gave way to pain and grief. In a room where the walls were covered with pictures of "miracle" babies - babies that had been operated on while still inside their mother's womb - we were given the news that our little girl had died in the night.

When I was in labor with Emma, it was the most excruciating pain I have ever experienced, and it was probably made worse by the emotional grief and pain I was going through as well. I prayed so hard for a miracle, that the doctors were wrong. But, when the doctor placed her in my arms, I knew that my prayers had not been answered and I had not received my miracle. I thought that I had failed to protect my child and wondered how Heavenly father could give me such a wonderful gift after 12 years of trying to have another baby only to snatch her away at the last minute.
The following months were a bit of a blur, I did the things that were required of me, that I had to do, but there was not any joy, just depression. Finally, when I didn't think I could sink any lower, when I didn't think I could bear the pain any longer, I finally prayed to Heavenly Father and asked for the peace that I so desperately needed.

Every night I had been having the same dream over and over. I was sitting on the bed playing with Emma. There was a loud noise, I looked up and when I looked back down, she was gone. I could hear her crying and crying but couldn't find her. Every night it was the same and during the dream i would be saying to myself, "Don't look away, don't look away!" But I always did. One night, shortly after my talk with Heavenly Father, I had a different dream. Our family was walking along a cow path on a hillside. Coming towards us was a man, as he came closer I could see that it was the Savior. As He came closer still, I could see that He was carrying something in his arms. The closer He came, I could see that he was carrying our little girl. Finally our paths met. The Savior placed Emma in my arms. My arms stopped aching, my heart stopped hurting. I have never felt such joy and peace. In one brief moment the Savior’s hand and mine brushed. I had read many times in the scriptures about the women who knew that if she just touched the hem of the Savior’s clothing, she would be healed. That is how I felt. I knew, and know that Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father love me. I felt that love. I knew in that instant that I was not being punished. I also knew that I had been wrong. I had received a miracle. That miracle was the Savior’s atonement. He suffered in the garden of Gethsemane for me. He suffered pain so great that he bled from His pores. He died on the cross for me. I knew in that instant that I would once again hold my little girl, that I would get to raise her and we would all be an eternal family.

I still miss her and cry for her. I still visit her grave and place pink roses there. But the promise of having my little girl with me again makes the pain bearable and gives hope.

We have this picture hanging in our living room. Jim bought it for me the week after Emma died. It is by Greg Olsen and is called, "Forever and Ever."

Our family calls it "Emma's picture."

A friend wrote us a poem shortly after Emma died.

After so many years of waiting patiently,

There was to be a new member of your family.

Though the thought of having her was at first a big surprise,

Over time you imagined her, ten fingers, ten toes, two beautiful eyes.

The perfect little baby, the final finishing touch,
To be a part of this family that had waited long enough.

The things you gathered for her were selected with love and care,

The crib, the bedding, her clothes, and the bows for her hair.

Yet, through a simple twist of fate and touch of the Master's hand,

Sometimes the gifts He has for us are not what we have planned.

You see now the roles have been reversed, she's gone back to Him above,

To look down and watch over you, with her eternal love.

R. Eaton

Sally-Ann

Emma Rose

23rd April, our little girl Emma would have been 6-years-old if she had lived.

Emma was a big surprise. We had been trying for 12 years to have another baby. I had finally resolved in my heart that we were only going to have two children. A friend of mine had just found out she was pregnant, and for the first time in recent memory, I didn't get that little twinge in my heart when she announced her pregnancy. The first few weeks were a little rough. Through and ultra-sound we discovered that I was pregnant with not one, but three babies. Unfortunately, a heartbeat was never found on two of the babies and they just gradually faded away each week until they no longer showed on the ultra-sound. Emma continued to grow and thrive. I was a high risk pregnancy - forty-one, diabetic, high blood pressure and overweight. Every week I went to the doctor, tried to do everything they instructed me to the letter. Everything went along great. We chose not to have any of the testing done for birth defects, etc. At 8 1/2 months I went to have a amnio done at the hospital. Emma was measuring over 9lbs, so the doctors thought it might be wise to induce. The amnio was to check her lung development. The day before I had been at the doctors for my usual weekly appointment. I had a non-stress test which was normal. I also had an ultra-sound because Emma had been breech and if she still was, they would schedule me for a C Section the next day. During the non-stress test however, Emma had turned around and was head down.

The next day I woke up feeling extremely nauseated, but thought it was just nerves because I absolutely hate needles. We went to the hospital and there we received the most devastating news of our lives. Our excitement and joy gave way to pain and grief. In a room where the walls were covered with pictures of "miracle" babies - babies that had been operated on while still inside their mother's womb - we were given the news that our little girl had died in the night.

When I was in labor with Emma, it was the most excruciating pain I have ever experienced, and it was probably made worse by the emotional grief and pain I was going through as well. I prayed so hard for a miracle, that the doctors were wrong. But, when the doctor placed her in my arms, I knew that my prayers had not been answered and I had not received my miracle. I thought that I had failed to protect my child and wondered how Heavenly father could give me such a wonderful gift after 12 years of trying to have another baby only to snatch her away at the last minute.
The following months were a bit of a blur, I did the things that were required of me, that I had to do, but there was not any joy, just depression. Finally, when I didn't think I could sink any lower, when I didn't think I could bear the pain any longer, I finally prayed to Heavenly Father and asked for the peace that I so desperately needed.

Every night I had been having the same dream over and over. I was sitting on the bed playing with Emma. There was a loud noise, I looked up and when I looked back down, she was gone. I could hear her crying and crying but couldn't find her. Every night it was the same and during the dream i would be saying to myself, "Don't look away, don't look away!" But I always did. One night, shortly after my talk with Heavenly Father, I had a different dream. Our family was walking along a cow path on a hillside. Coming towards us was a man, as he came closer I could see that it was the Savior. As He came closer still, I could see that He was carrying something in his arms. The closer He came, I could see that he was carrying our little girl. Finally our paths met. The Savior placed Emma in my arms. My arms stopped aching, my heart stopped hurting. I have never felt such joy and peace. In one brief moment the Savior’s hand and mine brushed. I had read many times in the scriptures about the women who knew that if she just touched the hem of the Savior’s clothing, she would be healed. That is how I felt. I knew, and know that Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father love me. I felt that love. I knew in that instant that I was not being punished. I also knew that I had been wrong. I had received a miracle. That miracle was the Savior’s atonement. He suffered in the garden of Gethsemane for me. He suffered pain so great that he bled from His pores. He died on the cross for me. I knew in that instant that I would once again hold my little girl, that I would get to raise her and we would all be an eternal family.

I still miss her and cry for her. I still visit her grave and place pink roses there. But the promise of having my little girl with me again makes the pain bearable and gives hope.

We have this picture hanging in our living room. Jim bought it for me the week after Emma died. It is by Greg Olsen and is called, "Forever and Ever."

Our family calls it "Emma's picture."

A friend wrote us a poem shortly after Emma died.

After so many years of waiting patiently,

There was to be a new member of your family.

Though the thought of having her was at first a big surprise,

Over time you imagined her, ten fingers, ten toes, two beautiful eyes.

The perfect little baby, the final finishing touch,
To be a part of this family that had waited long enough.

The things you gathered for her were selected with love and care,

The crib, the bedding, her clothes, and the bows for her hair.

Yet, through a simple twist of fate and touch of the Master's hand,

Sometimes the gifts He has for us are not what we have planned.

You see now the roles have been reversed, she's gone back to Him above,

To look down and watch over you, with her eternal love.

R. Eaton

Sally-Ann

Wednesday's Walk Down Memory Lane - Emma

It's Wednesday, and time to go for another walk down memory lane.If you would like to know more, click on the link above, join in, or just read other's contributions.

Well, my week of good intentions of keeping my blog updated has once again fallen by the wayside. Sick kids, hubby and oldest son travelling and the usual things of life have once again kept me from the computer! But, there is always a fresh new day to renew my goals and to achieve them! This past week as my 3-year-old has dramatically flung himself from one end of the house to the other, throwing temper tantrums with a ferocity never seen before, I kept hearing my mother's voice in my head. No, not the one that said, "I hope you have one just like you!" I chose to hear the voice that said, "If you get to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on!"

I have debated long and hard with myself about what to share this week in Wednesday's Walk. I don't think it was really much of a debate because I think I have known all along what I was going to talk about today. It is just so hard to talk about at times, especially this week. Sometimes it is hard to even think about.

Tomorrow, 23rd April, our little girl Emma would have been 5-years-old if she had lived.

Emma was a big surprise. We had been trying for 12 years to have another baby. I had finally resolved in my heart that we were only going to have two children. A friend of mine had just found out she was pregnant, and for the first time in recent memory, I didn't get that little twinge in my heart when she announced her pregnancy. The first few weeks were a little rough. Through and ultra-sound we discovered that I was pregnant with not one, but three babies. Unfortunately, a heartbeat was never found on two of the babies and they just gradually faded away each week until they no longer showed on the ultra-sound. Emma continued to grow and thrive. I was a high risk pregnancy - forty-one, diabetic, high blood pressure and overweight. Every week I went to the doctor, tried to do everything they instructed me to the letter. Everything went along great. We chose not to have any of the testing done for birth defects, etc. At 8 1/2 months I went to have a amnio done at the hospital. Emma was measuring over 9lbs, so the doctors thought it might be wise to induce. The amnio was to check her lung development. The day before I had been at the doctors for my usual weekly appointment. I had a non-stress test which was normal. I also had an ultra-sound because Emma had been breech and if she still was, they would schedule me for a C Section the next day. During the non-stress test however, Emma had turned around and was head down.

The next day I woke up feeling extremely nauseated, but thought it was just nerves because I absolutely hate needles. We went to the hospital and there we received the most devastating news of our lives. Our excitement and joy gave way to pain and grief. In a room where the walls were covered with pictures of "miracle" babies - babies that had been operated on while still inside their mother's womb - we were given the news that our little girl had died in the night.

When I was in labor with Emma, it was the most excruciating pain I have ever experienced, and it was probably made worse by the emotional grief and pain I was going through as well. I prayed so hard for a miracle, that the doctors were wrong. But, when the doctor placed her in my arms, I knew that my prayers had not been answered and I had not received my miracle. I thought that I had failed to protect my child and wondered how Heavenly father could give me such a wonderful gift after 12 years of trying to have another baby only to snatch her away at the last minute.
The following months were a bit of a blur, I did the things that were required of me, that I had to do, but there was not any joy, just depression. Finally, when I didn't think I could sink any lower, when I didn't think I could bear the pain any longer, I finally prayed to Heavenly Father and asked for the peace that I so desperately needed.

Every night I had been having the same dream over and over. I was sitting on the bed playing with Emma. There was a loud noise, I looked up and when I looked back down, she was gone. I could hear her crying and crying but couldn't find her. Every night it was the same and during the dream i would be saying to myself, "Don't look away, don't look away!" But I always did. One night, shortly after my talk with Heavenly Father, I had a different dream. Our family was walking along a cow path on a hillside. Coming towards us was a man, as he came closer I could see that it was the Savior. As He came closer still, I could see that He was carrying something in his arms. The closer He came, I could see that he was carrying our little girl. Finally our paths met. The Savior placed Emma in my arms. My arms stopped aching, my heart stopped hurting. I have never felt such joy and peace. In one brief moment the Savior’s hand and mine brushed. I had read many times in the scriptures about the women who knew that if she just touched the hem of the Savior’s clothing, she would be healed. That is how I felt. I knew, and know that Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father love me. I felt that love. I knew in that instant that I was not being punished. I also knew that I had been wrong. I had received a miracle. That miracle was the Savior’s atonement. He suffered in the garden of Gethsemane for me. He suffered pain so great that he bled from His pores. He died on the cross for me. I knew in that instant that I would once again hold my little girl, that I would get to raise her and we would all be an eternal family.

I still miss her and cry for her. I still visit her grave and place pink roses there. But the promise of having my little girl with me again makes the pain bearable and gives hope.

We have this picture hanging in our living room. Jim bought it for me the week after Emma died. It is by Greg Olsen and is called, "Forever and Ever."

Our family calls it "Emma's picture."

A friend wrote us a poem shortly after Emma died.

After so many years of waiting patiently,

There was to be a new member of your family.

Though the thought of having her was at first a big surprise,

Over time you imagined her, ten fingers, ten toes, two beautiful eyes.

The perfect little baby, the final finishing touch,
To be a part of this family that had waited long enough.

The things you gathered for her were selected with love and care,

The crib, the bedding, her clothes, and the bows for her hair.

Yet, through a simple twist of fate and touch of the Master's hand,

Sometimes the gifts He has for us are not what we have planned.

You see now the roles have been reversed, she's gone back to Him above,

To look down and watch over you, with her eternal love.

R. Eaton

Sally-Ann