Merry Christmas in Heaven

Hope you are enjoying your 2nd Christmas in Heaven sweet baby Stella. We miss you more than you'll ever know here on earth. But, thank you for making this Christmas drastically better than last. Thank you for letting us enjoy 7 week old baby Iris and her 1st Christmas today. Tell God thank you for giving his only Son so we can enjoy life here on earth, while knowing we're promised to get to spend eternity in Heaven with you.

Keep shining bright baby girl!

Grandma Julie, Grandpa Bill, Uncle Tyler & Aunt Taryne visited your grave today Miss Stella.

7 week old Iris dolled up for Christmas! 

Stella's ring and necklace…and our precious rainbow baby. Perfect Christmas.

You're still missing

Well, it's Christmas time again…and this year it's Iris's first Christmas. We get the joy of having our baby girl to celebrate this special time of year with. But, it's also the first Christmas we are choosing to celebrate since you've been gone baby Stella. You're still missing. And it still hurts.

Don't get me wrong, we are feeling beyond blessed and excited for this Christmas with baby Iris. We will cherish every moment and every memory we get to create this year. But, it's not just "all better." Our hearts are not just all healed. There is still a Stella sized hole in our hearts. Our first baby girl is still missing. And this time last year, we were in the depths of the ugliest days of our lives. How can those horrible memories not come rushing to the surface? Well they did. They did when we put up our Christmas tree this week. We didn't put our tree up last year, so this was another "first" without Stella. Seeing all the ornaments from all the happy, fun times in our lives. The innocence of another lifetime ago. It hit pretty hard, that while life is pretty damn good this year, Stella's still missing.

How do we balance the joy of Iris's first Christmas with the heartache we still feel missing Stella? Very carefully, I suppose. We don't want to be those creepy weird people that add Stella's picture to our Christmas card, or sign her name to it…or do we? Do we hang a stocking for her? Or do we just realize she's not here and never will be? It's a lot to figure out…what's wrong, what's right? How do we honor her and not act like we're moving on without her, but still keep our sanity? We are working to realize that baby Stella is still very much here, though not physically. She shows us her presence daily. She shines her bright star upon us. So, we put up her star tree and we took her sister's picture next to it. We'll seal our Christmas cards with a star sticker. We'll do the little things that mean something to us and tell baby Stella how much we love her, how much we miss her, and that we always will. Though Iris is truly healing our hearts, they will never be completely whole again. And that's ok, because that's our life and we still wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

The night after we put up our regular Christmas tree, after the pain and sadness really hit me again… we gave baby Iris a bath. And before her bath, we weighed her. She weighed 6 lbs, 11 oz. Exactly what you weighed when you were born, baby Stella. Daddy said he thought Iris's weight felt familiar ;) Thank you again baby girls, for giving us exactly what we need, exactly when we need it.

Baby Iris next to Stella's star tree

Baby Iris helping daddy put the *star* on our regular tree

Stella's 1st Birthday & Iris is BORN!!

By the grace of God, our rainbow baby, Iris St. Clair was born on November 6th, 2014 at 2:04 P.M. by repeat c-section. She was 34 weeks and 3 days. Iris weighed 4 lbs, 12 oz., and was 17.5 inches long.

Yes, Iris was born on her big sister's birthday. Exactly one year after we lost our sweet angel baby Stella and our lives came crashing down, our perfect rainbow baby was born and our lives almost feel put back together.

We were admitted to the hospital on Thursday, October 30th because of some blood work that came back elevated. It was serious enough, they were pondering delivering Iris that night, at 33 weeks and 3 days. The fear was overwhelming. We couldn't help but think we were going to lose this baby girl too. I received 2 sets of steroid shots over a 48 hour period to help mature baby girl's lungs in case it was time for her to make her appearance into this world. We anxiously and nervously hung out in the hospital for a week, getting blood tests and ultrasounds and hooked up to the heart rate monitor to watch over baby girl. Actually, anxious and nervous don't even begin to explain the real emotions of that long week. We listened to Iris's heartbeat 24 hours a day, for 7 days. Worrying and waiting. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for her precious heart to just stop beating for no reason. Waiting for our past to repeat itself, as a horrible outcome is all we knew. The new goal was to make it to 36 weeks, which would be November 17th. Stella's original due date. Wow, again.

On the afternoon of November 5th, Mark and I talked about how difficult and heartwrenching it was that we were going to be in the hospital on Stella's first birthday. Not only the hospital, the same hospital, on the same floor, just down the hall from where we delivered Stella. How would we feel? What would we do? To honor Stella? To celebrate Stella? To undoubtedly grieve for all that was still lost, one whole year later.

On the evening of November 5th, the doctors finally decided it was time. Iris was trying to find a way to get out into the world. So there it was, Iris would be born on November 6th. She would officially share a birthday with her angel sister Stella. We know this was not a coincidence. This was the work of a much higher power, no doubt God and baby Stella. Baby Stella did not want us to be sad on her birthday, she did not want us to feel empty and confused at how to honor her. She wanted her birthday to be a day of joy, peace, and true celebration. Stella wanted her first birthday, in Heaven, to be the best day of our lives.

So midday on November 6th, we walked into the exact same operating room where we delivered Stella. And my dream of laying on that operating table again, having them cut me open, and take out a living, crying baby…finally came true. Finally and perfectly. Our rainbow was here.

Iris went from being scheduled to arrive on November 25th- the day we buried Stella, to November 17th- Stella's original due date, to actually making her appearance….ON STELLA'S 1ST BIRTHDAY.  Try and tell me this wasn't baby Stella's doing…

And now it is the 6th of the month once again. And for the first time in a year, I am not meeting this day with dread, but with a blessed and happy heart. Thank you baby Stella. Today I get to finally take that long awaited picture of our daughter with her "1 month sticker" on her onesie. It's not Stella's one month birthday, but it is her little sisters, Iris.

IRIS- means "rainbow" in Greek. Iris was a Greek goddess that rode a rainbow delivering messages between Heaven and Earth. It also means "bringer of joy." We wholeheartedly agree.

Happy 13 Months in Heaven baby Stella, keeping shining bright little star. And Happy 1 Month on Earth baby Iris, our precious rainbow at the end of the darkest, most devastating storm.

One month left

One month left. Can I keep this baby alive for one more month? Doesn't seem like very long. Sounds easy enough. Or will my body fail me yet again? It did fail me once already, just 11 short days from your due date baby Stella. So, even though 31 days doesn't sound like much and we are in the home stretch…I can't help but have my doubts.

Sure, we are having more monitoring this time. We go to the doctor twice a week for non-stress tests (NST) where they monitor baby girl's heart rate and movements for about 30 minutes. She has been passing with flying colors so far. Keep it up baby girl! However, it's still hard to believe that this "extra monitoring" will really guarantee baby girls safe arrival, because after all, we were at the doctors THE DAY BEFORE last time. The day before Stella died, I was being "monitored" at the doctors, and what do you know... they were too dumb to see the signs and save her. So, in other words, NOTHING will make me feel safe or truly believe this is going to work out the way it should, the way it does for all the innocent pregnant people in the world….until baby girl is here ALIVE.

While I'm looking forward to the month of November, I'm also dreading it. I'm dreading that in 12 short  days our precious baby Stella will have been gone for a year. An entire year. How can that possibly be? What will we do to honor and celebrate you baby girl? Nothing seems even remotely good enough. We should be planning your first birthday party. Instead we are planning on how to survive such a heartbreaking day, while somehow honoring you and keeping your sweet memory alive. We do have your memorial golf tournament coming up November 22nd. Just 3 days before your baby sister's scheduled birthdate. Though horribly depressing, it should be a fun event, for a good cause.

31 more days. Can we survive? Can baby girl survive? Dear God and baby Stella, please give us the peace, strength, and courage to make it 31 more days.

11 months

11 months since we first said hello and goodbye to you baby Stella, our angel baby.

30 weeks pregnant with what better be our rainbow baby.

50 days left until our life changes all over again. For the better this time.

Keep shining bright for us, our little star. We will miss you and love you until the end of time.

Changing the nursery

It's been a rough week. We decided to redo your nursery, baby Stella, to get ready for your baby sister. Even as I type it…it sounds silly. Get ready for your baby sister? Aren't we already ready? Didn't we just do this? For you? The answer is yes, we did just get ready for you and we're still ready. We literally have everything a newborn baby could possibly need. We're just missing the baby. So how are we supposed to "get ready" and prepare for your baby sister, when nothing needs done? It's just another challenge on my heart.

The decision to redo your nursery didn't come lightly. Why take apart a perfectly beautiful nursery, decorated and put together with so much love, so many dreams, so many hopes? A nursery that has never been used. But it was made for YOU, baby Stella, and you aren't coming home to use it. Doesn't your baby sister deserve her own perfectly beautiful nursery, designed just for her? We decided yes, she does. And with your help and guidance, we moved everything out and got it ready to paint. It was difficult and bittersweet, but we felt we were doing the right thing. Then, the last thing your daddy did was take your name off the wall. And it hit me like a ton of bricks. It's over. It's really over. You're gone, you're never coming back. The nursery is no longer yours. I obviously know you've been gone, but taking your name off the wall just seemed so final. So, "time to move on," just like that. But you'll always be our first baby girl. It was always your nursery first. Thanks for letting us share it with your sister.

Then today we decided to go to Buy Buy Baby. I used to LOVE going to there while pregnant with you. We had some coupons, and I thought let's just go find some stuff to buy for your baby sister. Again, we need nothing, but I guess I was trying to satisfy my "need" to prepare and get ready for baby girl. It turned into an uncomfortable trip. We wandered around trying to force ourselves to buy things we don't really need, while trying to avoid the sales people asking us about our registry (which we obviously don't have, because we don't NEED ANYTHING). By the time we left, with nothing, I was in tears. What's the point? We don't need anything. And if we do, we don't know what, because we've never had a living baby before. And then my mind goes to the darkest place of all…we shouldn't buy anything more, because what if this baby dies too.

29 weeks pregnant. 8 weeks left. 59 days to go. We pray for peace, courage, and strength to make it that far.

Stella's perfect nursery

Baby girl's nursery-on it's way to perfect

10 months

As I laid in bed this morning, wondering how the last 10 months have happened the way they have, baby girl was rolling and jumping all about. As if to say, "I know what day it is mommy, and I know you're sad, but I'm here and I'm alive and well." And hopefully in just 80 short days, our lives won't feel like they are constantly on the verge of falling apart, again. Maybe in 80 days, the hole in our hearts won't be quite so deep. Maybe.

I have such a hard time believing our life is what it is. In the last 10 months, we have been forced to learn how to live without our first baby girl. We are still learning how to live without her. I feel like we will spend the rest of our lives learning how to keep going, how to keep surviving with this hole in our hearts and this void in our lives.  I feel like I'm always on the verge of a meltdown, on the verge of losing it, just trying to keep it together. Like any little thing might send me back into the deep dark hole. And a lot of the time, I just feel like I'm faking it. Faking that I'm ok, that life is ok. It's a wear out, a wear out I've lived with for 10 months, that I'll just have to keep living with. Our lives are so different. So different from what they used to be, from what I imagined they would be. And so very different from our close friends and family.  It hurts hearts my heart to realize this, but it's just another thing we can't change, that we just have to keep learning to live with.

One thing I do know, I would not have survived the last 10 months of this heartbreaking journey without my husband, without Stella's daddy. It's difficult to feel blessed when your world has turned upside down with tragedy, but I am blessed. Blessed beyond belief for having the husband I do. Many marriages don't survive the loss of a child. I think the divorce rate is close to 80% for couples who have lost a child. But I can honestly say, our marriage has never been better and our love has never been stronger.

Help us to continue on this journey without you, baby Stella. Help us to work on making a difference in the lives of others this happens to. Help us make you proud, while we hold your memory close to our hearts, and plan your memorial golf tournament. And especially help us bring your baby sister into this world alive. We want to know what a 10 month old baby girl is like. We need to know what it's like to be parents to a living baby girl, too.

Were you helping your baby sister say hello with a rainbow? Rainbow from our viewing deck. We love both of you baby girls.

My least favorite question-6 months pregnant

"Is it your first?" Makes me want to scream at the top of my lungs, "NO, my first should be almost 10 months old, but she died 11 days before her due date. They don't know why. She was absolutely perfect. Her poor precious little heart just stopped beating for no reason! So, this is my SECOND. My second baby. My second daughter." But, somehow I don't feel like the waitress at the restaurant or the teller at the bank really need to know or hear this entire story that is my life. But, on the other hand, saying, "yes, this is our first" is a blatant lie and one I just can't stand to tell. I imagined this would be a difficult spot in this pregnancy, and it most certainly is. I don't feel the need to tell my story to every single person I meet, yet I feel like I'm betraying Stella if I don't tell the story. Needless to say, I'll be glad when I don't have to answer that question anymore. Of course, then I'm sure there will be something else. Something else that makes me uncomfortable. Like people assuming I've only got the one child, the one baby. When really, our life will never look complete again. We will always and forever be missing one. Our first one.

I'm 24 weeks pregnant today. 6 months exactly. And there are exactly 3 months left until we get to meet this new bundle of joy. Our rainbow baby. She, yes that's correct, SHE is officially scheduled to arrive Tuesday, November 25th at 7:30 A.M. I am anxiously expecting that Tuesday to be the best day of my life. High expectations, I know. November 25th, 2014 is exactly one year from the day we buried baby Stella. November 25th, 2013 was the second worst day of our lives as we laid our first baby girl to rest. November 25th, 2014 will be drastically different, as we welcome our anxiously awaited for, second baby girl. Pretty bittersweet birthday for this little girl. Thank you baby Stella for sending her to us. Thank you for making a day that we will always hold dear to our hearts even sweeter.

92 days left until the best day of my life, God willing. But who's counting?

9 months

39 Wednesdays ago our perfect world was still in tact. 39 Wednesdays ago our perfect world turned upside down before our very eyes. 39 weeks. Baby Stella, you have officially been gone from our lives longer than you were here in our lives. That seems impossible. But, even though you are physically "gone" from our lives, you are still very much with us all day, everyday. We are who we are because of you. I know I've said this a million times before and I'll probably say it for the rest of my life…but, not a single day goes by that we don't think about you, that we don't talk about you, that we don't talk to you, and that we don't miss you with all our hearts and beyond our human understanding. You are still our daughter. Our first baby girl. Our everything.

There have been over 6,000 views to this blog since I started it back in December 2013. I know a great deal of family and friends read the blog, and thank you so very much for those of you reading. I've been told it's the best way for those that truly care about us to know how we're truly doing, how our hearts are truly holding up. I couldn't agree more. We have definitely learned who our true friends and closest family are through this tragedy. As I know there are many that don't read the blog, they think it's  just too sad, too depressing. Well, that's an understatement. It's our sad, depressing life. But we wouldn't be where we are in our healing without those of you willing to read, willing to care. So, once again, thank you. Also 6,000 views seems like a lot to just be family and friends. So if there are any other mothers or families out there suffering through this same lifelong, unbearable pain, I hope this blog has helped you, as reading others blogs in the early days helped me. I hope it has helped you to at least know you are not alone on this heartbreaking journey.

Always waiting...

... For the other shoe to drop. This baby might be the only one we get, if we're actually lucky enough to get it here alive. The anxiety that comes along with this pregnancy thing, after having your perfectly healthy baby die for no reason, is almost too much for me. Too much for your daddy. Just too damn much. Things can be going along just fine. No pain, no problems, no issues. Then it's time for another routine doctors appointment and the anxiety slowly starts setting in.

First, it's excitement that we get to go back to the doctor, check on the baby, see it, and make sure all is well. Then the night before the appointment, there isn't much sleep. Then the morning of, you can't get to the doctors office early enough, fast enough. And then the worst part, the waiting room. Hurry up and wait. Let the anxiety build. Then you're expecting an ultrasound and almost fly through the roof when they tell you they don't think you have one scheduled today. I'm sorry, what?! I'm not leaving here without SEEING my baby and it's heart beating. So, into the ultrasound room you go, and we thought the waiting room was bad...the ultrasound room is like a torture chamber. This is the dark, quiet room, where you are sure your world is going to come crashing down... again. But thankfully, you see baby, you see baby's heart beating away. And almost all is right with the world once again. Almost. Until the next thing to worry about pops up or just the next routine doctors appointment.

I wish with all my heart, that I could be a normal pregnant person. I wish we could be normal, excited parents-to-be. I wish our first baby girl wasn't dead. I wish we weren't always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I could spend the rest of my life wishing we were normal, but that simply cannot be. Our lives are not normal. Normal parents aren't always missing their first born baby. We will miss her until the day we die. Normal parents don't fear being pregnant and getting to bring life into this world. We will forever fear pregnancy, this one and any other one we are blessed with, until the end of time.

Although we're exhausted from the anxiety, and ever present grief, it was a great doctors appointment and baby is doing wonderful. In even better news, they let us schedule our c-section for 37 weeks exactly. Hey, the earlier we can safely get this rainbow baby in our arms, the better! Making Monday, November 24th the official birthdate. I don't have to say "is it December yet?!" But instead, is it November yet?! Baby can share a birthday month with big sister. You don't mind do you, baby Stella? 

And best of all, I lost another Monday. Only 16 left now!

18 more Mondays

As of today, I'm officially halfway through this pregnancy. Our rainbow baby has been baking for 19 weeks, and since I'll deliver at 38 weeks at the very latest, we literally only have 19 weeks left.... At the very most. It's hard to believe we're half way through, but it's even harder to believe I still have 19 long weeks left. How am I ever going to make it that much longer?! Because even though we are halfway through, we didn't even know we were pregnant those first 4 weeks, so we've only known I was pregnant for 15 weeks, meaning I literally have more time left in this pregnancy than we've gone through thus far!! That's so much time. So instead of thinking of it like that, I'm going to try to get my crazy, anxious mind to think a little differently. Since I'm apparently into counting weeks, to say I only have 18 Mondays left, at the most, sounds more like something I can handle. Only 18 more Mondays until it's Monday, December 1st. That glorious Monday, that we are so anxiously awaiting. Can we make it 18 more Mondays? As if we have a choice. Baby has been moving a lot lately and we've been able to feel her daily since about 17 weeks, even daddy. It's the best feeling in the world, feeling the life growing inside of you. And very reassuring too. We get to say, "well, we know baby's still alive, at least right now." Keep it up baby.

You've been making yourself present a lot lately, baby Stella, and we much appreciate it. The other day when I tried to wear a different necklace besides yours to work, you certainly let me know how you felt about that. It took about all I had to even put on another necklace and it almost made me sick. Everything just felt off. Shortly after I put the other necklace on, I almost fell down putting my wedges on, almost put the garage door down on my car while driving out of the garage, and ran a red light on my way to work. Thankfully, I was rattled enough before leaving the house, I had gone back inside and grabbed your necklace, which I immediately put back on when I barely arrived safely at work. Yes, I'm aware it's just a necklace, but it somehow makes me feel closer to you and like I'm always carrying a part of you with me. After telling your daddy about my morning, he said, "all of this happened while you were not wearing Stella's necklace? Then, put the necklace back on!!" Love him. We've seen the date November 6th a few times on a few different things. I see 9:41 and 11:06 on the clock every single day. At least one of them, at least once a day, if not both times, both day and night.

Gosh, we love you baby girl. It's such an amazing feeling of peace to know you're near, watching over us and your baby sibling. Baby Stella, help us survive 18 more Mondays, until we meet our rainbow.

8 months

8 months ago today, a wall of darkness fell on our family, like nothing we've ever experienced. The aching grief that followed in the days and weeks that passed, was relentless on everyone. How we are all still standing is amazing to me. It's amazing to me to have watched our family come together in the most heart wrenching and challenging times. To love one another, to appreciate one another, and to be thankful for all that we still have. 5 months after losing you, baby girl, the darkest of clouds finally started to lift. The day we learned we were pregnant with your baby sibling. The day an ounce of hope returned to our lives. A ray of light finally broke through the darkness. Thank you for blessing us with this truly special gift, getting to carry and grow your baby sibling. With a great deal of faith and a lot of hope in our hearts, we so anxiously await their arrival. 

It's hard to believe you have been gone almost as long as you were here alive with us. How could that be? These milestones of what "should be" don't get any easier. The pain is still very present each and everyday, but it's especially raw on the 6th of each month. I know you would be a beautiful 8 month old baby. Probably laughing, trying to talk, and crawl. My heart cannot explain how much we miss you and how much we miss all the things we should be teaching you and watching you do. As you know, we pray every night that we get to have all the experiences with your sibling that we were cheated out of having with you.

I can say that losing you, baby Stella, has given us a much greater appreciation of this life than we ever could have imagined. Our family has never been closer. Our relationships with one another have never been stronger. Our love has never been so unconditional. It's weird and bittersweet, but your daddy and I are better together, than we could have ever been without losing you. We will be better, more patient, more understanding, more appreciative parents someday (God willing), thanks to you. Life is precious, life is fragile, and life is not to be taken for granted. You have taught us that, and for that, we are very thankful.

We love you, Stella St. Clair. More and more every single day. Though you cannot be here on earth with us, you are still with us. And you play such an important role in our lives. Thank you.  

I can't wait

Miss you baby girl. Can't wait to be a mother to your living baby sibling.

Father's Day

Another "happy holiday" for most. Your daddy misses you baby girl, but he is proud of you. He is so proud of you and all the wonderful work you are doing in Heaven, simply because you can't be here on earth with us. Even though this isn't the Father's Day we pictured, he's still your daddy and he couldn't be happier to call you his first baby girl.

Pregnancy after loss

I knew being pregnant again after losing Stella wasn't going to be easy. I knew it was going to be a mental and emotional challenge. But, I can't say I was prepared for just how difficult it truly is. Not that anything could have prepared us. We want a family. We need a baby. Bad enough to put ourselves through another 40 long weeks, waiting for a baby, with no guarantees.

We've recently learned of several family friends that are also pregnant. Some of them are even due on the exact same day, December 15th. My first reaction, is wow that's neat and kinda crazy. My second thought, is that I seriously doubt any of those mothers are praying specifically for their baby to arrive alive. I doubt any of those mothers believe that their baby's heart could just stop beating any minute, for no known reason at all. I doubt any of those mothers wake up in a panic, wondering if their baby is still alive. We'll all be 14 weeks on Monday, once again "in the clear" in all their minds. Not mine. Not in my mind. I'm left here, a panicked nutcase. And lastly, I doubt any of those mothers already have a dead daughter. Yes, losing Stella has made me certifiably crazy.

It's amazing how fast my feelings go from excitement to dread and back again. Many times an hour. After a good doctors appointment, I'm usually good for about a week. Feeling positive and peaceful. Like this might actually be my rainbow baby. That December 1st, 2014 might truly be the best the day of my life. That this Christmas will be a much brighter, beautiful celebration of life. And then… then the fear creeps back in with a vengeance. The fear that this baby's heart is going to stop beating too. Anytime, for no reason. Maybe it already stopped beating, and I just don't know it yet. That it's all just too good to be true. Last time Mark asked when our next doctors appointment was, I answered, "not until July 1st, the baby will surely be dead by then." He laughed, we laughed, until we almost cried. This is our life. This is what it looks like, what it feels like. It's not pretty. But this is our reality. This is pregnancy after loss, late loss. Stillbirth. 

And so we pray. A lot. We pray every morning and every night. And even sometimes in the middle of the day. We pray for peace. We pray for strength. We pray for hope, and for better days to come. And most specifically for this baby to arrive alive. Because, you will literally find me locked away in a mental institution if this isn't my rainbow baby.

Thank you baby Stella for all you've done so far, keep up the good work, my beautiful baby girl.

7 months

It's hard to believe you should be 7 months old. And instead I'm 3 months pregnant. How fun and crazy would life be if you were here, 7 months old, AND I was 3 months pregnant. Now that would have been special.

I do hope you have enjoyed your 7 months in Heaven, baby girl. You sure have been busy up there by helping us down here. You have graced us with as much strength as you can, the strength to get up and live each day, while learning to live without you, and loving each other more than we thought possible. You have given us the ability to know how precious this life is, and that since tomorrow isn't guaranteed, to live for today. You have given us the guidance to keep believing, believing in God and better days to come. And best of all, you have blessed us with your baby sibling on the way. Thank you, baby Stella. Thank you for all your hard work these past 7 months in answering our many endless prayers.

As we continue to pray to you, we pray you give us the strength, courage, and peace to handle and embrace whatever is headed our way in the coming weeks, and hopefully months. We love you baby Stella St. Clair and we miss you just as much today as we did the day we lost you.

Waiting for our RAINBOW, guided by our STAR

Well, the title says it all. We are anxiously, excitedly, cautiously waiting for our rainbow baby. Our take home baby. The one that makes it into this world alive. To live here on earth with us. Your sibling, baby Stella. The baby that your daddy says, "better arrive alive, live a long life, and bury us someday."

As I type this, we are 12 weeks and 1 day pregnant. We saw the baby's precious heart beat for the third time this morning. While it feels unreal we are this far along on this new journey, it feels like we still have a lifetime left. Hopefully 26 weeks left, to be exact. As the plan will be to deliver this baby by repeat c-section no later than 38 weeks (God willing, we make it that far). Mostly because, we will have reached full term by then and in our unfortunate experience, babies hearts' randomly stop beating at 38 weeks and 3 days, for no apparent reason. And we just cannot go there again. 

For "normal, lucky" people 12 weeks would be pretty much considered "in the clear." Unfortunately, we are not "normal or lucky," and we are certainly not "in the clear." We will not be in the clear until this baby is alive in our arms, kicking and screaming. Then of course, all the mothers out there would say, then there will be a whole new set of worries and concerns that never ends. Well, that's just great…bring on those NORMAL mother worries. Not the LOSS mother worries, like that this baby might die inside of me too. 

The post below this one contains a few of my writings from April, when we first found out. Most of the thoughts, feelings, and pleading prayers still apply. 

Stella's sibling today: 12 weeks, 1 day

Stella St. Clair, May 2013: 12 weeks, 2 days

Love both of you babies, more than anything in this world. Guide us baby Stella, guide us to your sibling's birth. 

A few delayed posts : )

Saturday: 04-12-14

On April 5th, the day before we should have been celebrating your 5 months here on earth, we learned we are pregnant again, with your baby sibling. Lord help me, if these isn't our rainbow baby. We are obviously cautiously excited and beyond terrified. We pray that with your guidance, baby Stella, we will have the strength, peace, and courage to survive whatever is headed our way in the coming days, weeks, and hopefully months.

In the one short week I've been pregnant so far, my emotions have been all over the place. Thrilled. Terrified. Excited. Nervous. Peaceful. Anxious. Part of me believes we are due for some good luck, and this time it's going to work out. We are going to get our take home baby, because we deserve it. The other part doesn't believe anything will work out, that something terrible is going to happen. Because I know terrible things happen. They've happened to us. People lose babies. Babies die. Whether it's early in the pregnancy or at full term, like you sweet baby girl. I've also had to fight back the feeling that I'm betraying you baby Stella by moving forward with our family and attempting to be excited for another baby. I have to try to believe that cannot be possible. We would never betray you. You know what you mean to us. Everything. And I believe you helped us create this new baby. You want us to find joy again through creating, loving, and raising your siblings. I know this in my heart. So, hopefully I can shake the feeling of betraying you when I feel glad about this new adventure. This new adventure, that feels like deja vu. Feels like yesterday we were just cautiously excited to be pregnant with you. I just stopped drinking wine and eating sushi for you. I was drinking orange juice with vitamin D for you. I was tired and felt icky for you. But no, this is different. This is new. And this time, we have you, our angel baby, guiding us through.

In my mind, I know I might not get to keep this baby for very long. But in my heart, I'm going to try to enjoy everyday that I do have growing this baby. I'm going to try to live each day knowing "today I am pregnant." I don't know what tomorrow brings, but I can't control it anyway. "Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow, it empties today of its strength."

Regardless of my ever changing emotions, it's going to be a damn long 9 months, if we even get 9 months. God willing.

Waiting for our RAINBOW, guided by our STAR. We love you baby girl. Always and forever.

Wednesday: 04-16-14

Happy. Hopeful. Like I have a purpose. Feelings I wasn't sure even existed anymore. But, somehow, someway…there is a part of me that feels happy. I don't even know how to react to this feeling. And it actually makes me scared. How sad that I am literally afraid to feel happy. Of course, I know why I am afraid. Because I know, with memories so fresh, just how fast happiness can turn into utter despair and pure, heart wrenching agony.  I know that in an instant, joy can be ripped from your life, leaving you empty, lonely, and without purpose.

And another unfortunate side effect of this new found happiness is missing you, baby Stella, even more. Because I know my new found peace is because your sibling is finally on it's way. And while I'm anxiously excited for this baby to arrive alive, I miss you, baby girl. It's going to be a long, hard road. Because, God willing, this baby does arrive alive. And then, then I will have a flood of emotions comparing him or her to you. Comparing all the things I'll never know about you. That's not fair to you. And that's not fair to your sibling.  I can't help but secretly wish this baby was you. I know that doesn't make any sense and I know I can never have you back. And you can obviously never be replaced. And once again, that's not fair to this baby. Because, trust me, I want this baby just as badly as I wanted you. And you are definitely separate, different, perfect babies. Our babies. I already can't help but comparing this pregnancy to yours. I just hope I get at least as much time with this baby as I got with you. I hope for even more time, obviously. But I know being "happy" about this baby doesn't guarantee I'll get any more time with it than whatever God decides. So we'll just keep going, one day a time. One hour at a time. Whatever it takes. We'll just keep praying, having faith, and simply believing.

Your daddy and I love you, baby girl. And your sibling too.

Friday: 04-25-14

Well, thank you God and thank you baby Stella. There is a baby and there is a heartbeat. 116 beats per minute, at 6 weeks and 4 days. I can't even explain the feeling of seeing that little heart fluttering on the screen. It was beyond bittersweet, something we will never again take for granted. It is hard to believe the last time we had an ultrasound, it was November 6th, when we learned your precious little heart was no longer beating. To say the anticipation for this appointment today was anxiety filled, would be an understatement. There were moments when I thought I might reach a full blown panic attack. But you were there. You were with us all day, and especially during that ultrasound. Your baby siblings heartbeat was 116. What else is 1-1-6? Your birthdate, baby Stella. 11-6. Thank you. Thank you for helping your baby siblings heart beat, and showing us you were there with us every step of the way. 

And now, between the ever-present grief, anxiety, and new found peace, I'm exhausted. I feel like drinking a huge glass of wine, but I'll obviously refrain. And the next time I drink a huge glass of wine, I had better be holding this baby in my arms while doing so. 

While it truly feels great to reach this amazing milestone, I know we are not in the clear. Unfortunately, I know we will never be in the clear, until your sibling is crying in my arms. We feel blessed to have achieved the unachievable, to be carrying precious cargo, once again. But our pregnancy innocence is gone. We also know the real blessing will come once this baby arrives alive. God willing.

One day at a time. We will walk this journey, with God and Stella by our side, one day at a time.

3 Year Anniversary

Three years ago today, I married my best friend. The love of my life. Your daddy. It's hard to believe 3 years have passed since that perfect day. That perfect day when we stood up before our family, friends, and God, to declare our love for each other. The love that would be never ending, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad times.

My papa, your great grandpa, talked that day about the peaks and valleys we would undoubtedly experience along the way in our life together. The peaks being like mountaintop experiences, full of joy and laughter. The easy times. The good times. We knew exactly what he was talking about, because May 27th, 2011 was just that, a mountaintop experience. The best day of our lives. Then he spoke of valleys. Something that didn't quite make sense beyond our naive minds, thinking of course there will be hard times. No big deal. Whatever they are, they can't be that bad. We have each other. Little did we know, that less than 3 short years later, we would find ourselves in the deepest, darkest, loneliest valley ever known. Little did we know, we would lose our first born child. We would bury our baby girl. Thank God we can't see the future.

Thankfully, I also remember what Papa said after telling us about the peaks and valleys. He said that no matter where we are in life and no matter kind of experience we are having, to lean on God. To thank Him in the good times. And to reach out to Him, trust in Him, and pray to Him in the bad times. That God would always be there for us. He would never turn His back on us. And thankfully, we have found this to be true. Not only is God there for us, you are there for us, sweet baby girl. Our very own guardian angel.

Although, our life doesn't look like we planned, it is still good. I feel beyond blessed that God gave me your daddy to go through this life with. I wouldn't trade our lives for anything in the world. When I married your daddy 3 years ago, I didn't think it was possible to love him any more than I did that day. Through losing you, my love for your daddy has grown more than I believed imaginable. I may not be the luckiest mother, but I do believe I am the luckiest wife ever. The way your daddy appreciates me and takes care of me, is unexplainable. My life wouldn't be the same without him in it. The strength of our love for each other is like no other, and for that I am grateful. We will never get over losing you baby girl, but we will survive it. We will survive it, while we cherish each other and all that we have been blessed with in this life. We will survive it with you and God by our side.

 

We will watch our wedding video tonight, like we do on every anniversary. And while this year there is a hole in each of our hearts that can never again be filled, we will remember where our life together began. We will be thankful and blessed for the love we share with one another and with you.

 

 

Light of life

We miss you baby girl. I haven't written much lately, because there just isn't much going on. We still miss you all day, every day. We still pray to you every night. Thank you for granting us peace, strength, and courage when you can. We love you. You are the light of our lives. And always will be. 

Mother's Day

Mother's Day. A day when the world tells you to appreciate your mom (that part is easy, if you have a mom).  A day the rest of the world believes was created to make people feel good. Yet, it's a day that is so painful for so many, for so many different reasons. And like most holidays, the lucky people don't have to think about this pain or the people experiencing this pain. The pain of missing someone. A baby. A child. Their own mother. Or maybe they never had either. Most go on thinking this is a wonderful, happy day. A day filled with nothing but joy. 

Those naive people also don't know the origin of Mother's Day. Before Mother's Day was commercialized the way it is today… It was created by Anna Jarvis, to honor her mother who lost 7 children. Anna wanted a day that honored her mother for still getting up each day and living without her children. With only being able to carry them in her heart. And now it's a day to celebrate mothers of living children. Funny how things change when something terribly sad is involved. People don't want to think about it or deal with it, so they move on.

I miss you today like every day, baby girl. Although we cannot be together today, nothing will ever change the fact that you made me a mom. And thank you for that. I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. And I hope to be half the mother my mom is, when and if I'm ever truly given the chance. 

A poem was sent to me from the Bereavement Services at the hospital you were delivered at, baby girl. It's a sad place to get mail from, but I thought this one was sweet.

A Mother's Day Ode

I am your mother, but you, my child, I cannot

hold.

It'll get easier with time, or so I'm told.

People may forget that I am your mother. 

I'm part of a secret club we only share with one

another.

But that doesn't diminish my love for you.

I think of you the whole day through.

I wonder what you're doing, my Precious Little

One.

We are connected by an Infinite bond which 

cannot come undone.

I will not let Death tear us apart.

I promise to always keep you alive in my heart.

6 months

Half of a YEAR. How could that be? This is definitely a difficult one, as the tears roll down my face. The anxiety has been building, and now it's here, and it hurts like hell. The pain is just as raw and fresh as it was on November 6th. Waking up today was like waking up in the hospital and those first few days at home. Confusion. Disbelief. Denial. Empty and aching. But, it's just another day. Another day that you are still gone. Another day that living without our first baby is our reality. Another day our daughter is still dead. Another day the world just keeps going on around us. I cannot comprehend how so much time has passed. So much time, since we first laid eyes on your beautiful face. Since your daddy held you up to me in the operating room. Since we met you for the first time. Our dead baby girl. How? You were here and then you were gone. But how? How am I expected to live the rest of my life on this earth without you? I miss you so much, it hurts. Everything hurts.

Unfortunately, I've been playing the events of November 5th and 6th over and over in my head again, like I did in the early weeks and months. It's like a terrible train wreck that I can't look away from. It plays and plays, on repeat. And it's miserable. I've often wondered if writing the "story" that is my nightmare might help. Might help it stop playing in my broken mind. So, here goes nothing. The story of 6 months ago...

"There's no heartbeat…"

On Tuesday, November 5th we had an ultrasound and a doctors appointment. We were 38 weeks and 2 days. We saw your little heart beating on the ultrasound. You weren't moving as much as usual, but we were told that was normal later in the pregnancy because you run out of room and save your energy for birth. I should have known something was wrong. Looking back, I did know something was wrong. Your heartbeat was lower than normal and you just weren't moving as much. When we went home that evening I tried to concentrate on feeling your movements. It wasn't like normal, but I tried to not freak myself out, knowing we were just at the doctors and you were fine (supposedly).  The doctor had told me to drink something cold, lay on my side, and count your movements if I was worried. Your daddy and I talked back and forth and decided we were probably overreacting and chose to just go to bed. I don't blame myself for you dying, but I will wonder for the rest of my life if I could have saved you that Tuesday.

Wednesday, November 6th. The day that will go down in history, as the day my entire world and all that I knew came crashing down. The worst day of my life. That has led to the worst months of my life. That will undoubtedly lead to the worst years of my life. Because life on this earth without my first daughter, simply cannot be good. The first 28 years of my life were great, but the rest will not be so great. You will be missing. From my life and my heart. Forever.

Wednesday morning I went to work, but I still wasn't sure I was feeling you move. Or definitely not like usual. By noon, I couldn't remember having definitely felt you move. So, I went home drank some cold juice, laid down, and waited. I grew impatient in about 20 minutes, knowing something wasn't right. I called your daddy and he came right home from work. The doctors office had told me to go to the hospital for a non-stress test, to confirm things were fine. So, in our world, things were still fine. Your daddy and I collected our packed hospital bag, your carseat, pillows (in anticipation for a possibly long labor), and everything we could think we might need… as our baby girl might be born today! We remember saying, best case scenario everything is fine and I've just been overreacting about your movements. Worst case scenario, you weren't doing well in there and it was time for you to make your appearance into the world.

Our conversation on the way to the hospital is one I'll never forget. Your daddy and I went on and on about how perfect and exciting our life was. We had just celebrated meeting on a blind date 5 years ago, we had an unbelievable wedding and an amazing honeymoon in Bora Bora. We had already traveled the world together and bought two houses. My job was great and your daddy was about to embark on another career owning his own business…and best of all, we were probably about to meet our baby girl!! We were blessed. We were lucky. We were unstoppable and life was damn good. Little did we know how drastically it was all about to change, within minutes of getting to the hospital.

They got us right in to a triage room, where I changed into a hospital gown. The nurse came in and starting looking for your heartbeat with just a little handheld device. After about a minute, she said sometimes it just takes a while to find. She was moving all around my belly, not finding it. We showed her where the doctor usually found it. Where the doctor had found it just yesterday. After about 3 minutes, she said the thing wasn't working, but it was ok, she would just go get an ultrasound machine and we would check it that way. I looked at your daddy and said she was making me nervous. A doctor came in with the ultrasound machine. Within about 2 seconds of her putting the wand on my belly, there you were on the screen. But something was very wrong. I immediately said, "there's no heartbeat." The doctor looked at me and said "you know what you're looking at?" I repeated, with disbelief in my voice, "there's no heartbeat!" I remember the next part so clearly and like it was yesterday… the doctor looked back at me again and said, "I'm so sorry." So sorry?! Sorry for what?! As the walls slowly starting caving in around us, everything became blurry. The panic, horror, and denial started to set in. What in the world was happening? It's like I had closed my eyes and woken up in someone else's life. In another world. This could not possibly be happening. I'm 38 weeks and 3 days pregnant. Stella is full term. She is alive and about to be born. She has a heartbeat, I saw and heard it yesterday. YESTERDAY. Less than 24 hours ago.

The minutes, hours, and decisions that followed are nothing but a blur to me. I don't remember our discussions with each other or with our families. I don't remember much of anything, except the feeling that we were alone. Completely alone. That we must to be the only people in the world that this had ever happened to. This didn't happen. Perfectly healthy, full term babies don't just die. The brain has a strange way of allowing you to process unbelievable tragedy. I'm certain my brain is still working on it. Because it makes as little sense today as it did then.

So, here we are… 6 months without you and somehow we are still alive. I attribute my being alive to your daddy. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him. And although, I would have loved to go with you baby girl and I would have given my life in a second, if it could have saved you... I could never leave your daddy behind on this earth. The unconditional love and care he has given me since we sat in that triage room on November 6th, is beyond my understanding and far greater than I deserve.

Help us survive today, sweet baby Stella St. Clair. Help us. We love you more than life itself and our hearts will ache for you until the day we die.

This week

Well, it was kind of a rough week. 3 babies (yes, THREE) were born on Wednesday. Two were born to a couple of my best friends, bridesmaids in my wedding actually. Since babies are supposed to be born alive, of course, I am happy for them and their precious blessings. However, it doesn't make it any less difficult to realize their hearts are full, their lives are complete, while my heart is still empty, and my life still feels like it's been shattered into a million tiny pieces. The third baby was born to a wife of a colleague of mine. Although, I am not close to these people, this one really got to me, because she had the same doctor we had. You mean our doctor is capable of delivering babies ALIVE, awesome. Just not mine. Great, real fair. I almost called this lady after Stella died to tell her to change doctors, or her baby might die too. Glad someone stopped my crazy ass from doing that, but still. It's nothing short of another punch in the gut. All on a Wednesday no less.

I do pray that these families all know what a true blessing they have in those living babies and that their hearts are honestly full with love and patience. And I do pray to have those feelings myself one day, one lucky day.

I'm also certain there is some underlying anxiety about your 6 months coming up baby girl. Just doesn't seem right or possible. Time just keeps going, there is no stopping it. Before I know it, we'll have lived on this earth for 1 entire year without you. When I think of that, I almost start to hyperventilate. It's too much. And don't even get me started about Mother's Day. So, back to one day at a time. Wake up, love your daddy for loving me so much, go to bed. Repeat.

Some days and some weeks are just tougher than others. But somehow, we are still standing. And I know, with your loving guidance, we can do this baby Stella.

Difficult realizations

It's becoming increasingly difficult to realize that NO ONE will ever truly understand the pain in my heart, besides Mark. And even more difficult to realize that we will carry this intense, unending heartache around with us for the rest of our living days. We will wake up everyday with a hole in our hearts that misses you and we will go to sleep every night with that same hole in our hearts still missing you. Literally, forever.

I thought this article spoke to these two difficult realizations, that others cannot know our pain and that it will truly last a lifetime.

Things you should never say to a bereaved parent.

http://stillstandingmag.com/2014/01/6-things-never-say-bereaved-parent/

Love you, my sweet baby girl.

Your first Easter

Easter in Heaven. What a special celebration that must be. Once again, your mommy is envious of you baby girl. They weren't kidding when they said this year of "firsts" without you would be extremely difficult. We miss you in absolutely everything we do, but we miss you even more on holidays. When we would have been starting our own little family traditions. Instead we just get to wonder what we would be doing with you, what you would look like, how big you would be…The wonder goes on and on.

We do have peace knowing that you are living in a place of true eternal joy. A place that with your continued guidance and love, we hope to join you one day. We know you are very much alive, because of Jesus and his sacrifices. The same Jesus that insisted He needed you in Heaven, instead of here on earth with your mommy and daddy. We love Him for taking care of you and letting you enter into His Kingdom, where there is no pain, no suffering, no evil. You lucky little girl. Happy Easter, my beautiful baby girl. Enjoy your day with all our loved ones up there, and all your baby friends too.

We love you, Stella St. Clair.

Psalm 23:6 Surely your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me all the days of my life, and I will live in the house of the Lord forever.

Your other grandparents

Your daddy's parents, your Nana Sara and Papa Bill left today. They have been here visiting AZ since before Christmas.  That was less than 2 months after losing you. We were a wreck back then. I can feel it, I can feel we are different now. Through countless rough days and nights, and the worst weeks of our lives, we have begun down our path of healing in the last 4 months while they were here. And I know their presence helped us greatly. We may not have realized it at the time, but we needed them and we are very grateful for the time we got to spend with them. We had gotten quite used to having them around and we will definitely miss them. I feel blessed to have them as my in-laws, and you would have loved them as your Nana and Papa. 

Now it's just your daddy and me again. Working on living in our new normal, without you by our side. As we continue down this beyond challenging path, please give us peace, strength, and courage baby girl. We don't know what tomorrow brings, and we can't control it anyway. We miss you today and everyday, baby Stella. 

5 months

Almost half a year. How have we lived without seeing your precious face for almost half a year? I can't even let myself wonder too long... What would you be doing at 5 months old? What would you look like? Sometimes, I just don't have the energy. Don't get me wrong, I think about you and what you would be like every single day. But it's no less painful on my mind or my heart, than it was 5 months ago. So I can't allow myself to linger in that place for too long. Especially since I'll never know.

Some of the memories of you and your short time here with us are becoming more pleasant. My pregnancy with you was a very joyful, happy experience for us. Feeling you move and grow inside of me were special, blissful moments. Preparing your nursery and for your arrival was some of the most fun we've ever had. You'll always be our first baby. And of course you already know, you will always hold a special place in our hearts.

Can't wait until the day I can kiss your precious face again.

Your heartbeat

One year ago today, I was 7 weeks and 2 days pregnant. On April 2nd, 2013 your daddy and I saw you and your heart beating for the first time at our first ultrasound. Little did we know, we would see and hear your heartbeat for the following 31 weeks. And then, then… 22 weeks and 1 day ago, we saw and heard your heartbeat for the last time, ever. Because 22 weeks ago, it stopped. Your precious little heart just stopped beating. Why? We'll never know why. And we ask ourselves everyday. Why our baby? Why our Stella? It's just as hard to believe today, as it was 22 Wednesday's ago. You were here and then you were gone. Not a single second, of a single day has gone by that we haven't missed you beyond belief.

I impatiently wait for the day I can see and hear your heart beat again. We love you, Stella St. Clair.

And then it strikes again

Grief. Truly, the never ending journey. A struggle, not to be conquered. A war, not to be won.  It's been a few days since I cried. I actually thought it had been about a week. Then I remembered Wednesday and sure enough I also lost the battle to grief just 3 days ago. And here I thought I was doing so well, not to cry in relentless heartache and pain for several days… But it was only 3 days.

Sometimes I find it easier than others to realize that we can and will miss you, baby Stella, for the rest of our lives. And in the same breath, to realize, you are never coming back. And that it is what it is…as long as we live on this earth without you, we will MISS you. Forever.

Sometimes I find it easier than others to be positive and hopeful that we will be pregnant again soon. Hopeful that next time we will get our living "take home baby." We pray for our rainbow baby, your younger sibling, every single night before we go to bed. We hold that baby in a special place in our hearts, as we impatiently wait to hold that baby in our arms. I often dream of the day they take me back into the operating room, and a living, crying, breathing baby is delivered. Sometimes, it's a difficult dream to wake up to, when I realize it's a dream that isn't quite within my reach. But it keeps me hopeful. And then, out of no where, it's like I'm being suffocated all over again. Like I've been dropped in a deep, dark hole, never to see the light of day. With nothing in this world to be hopeful about. Because you are still gone. I still miss you. Beyond the imagination of anyone that hasn't lost a child. I don't know what it's like to be a mother to a living baby outside of my body, but baby Stella, you were very much alive inside of me. And if any of you mothers can imagine what it would be like to lose your living children, take that feeling times a 1,000 and I bet you still wouldn't even be close. The pain is unbearable, constant, and the part that pisses me off the most…the pain will last FOREVER.

Please baby Stella, please bring us peace, comfort, and most of all hope. Bring us to a place of more than 3 days without tears. We love you more than anything in this world, and the world beyond.

Flowers at your grave

My cousin wanted to know if she could go visit your grave and bring you flowers. Of course, I said yes and how very thoughtful…especially since mommy and daddy can't get there to visit very often. And how sweet of her to bring you a little frog friend too. This further confirms we picked the best place we could to bury you, near your wonderful family. At the end of the email conversation, I said "I look forward to seeing a picture of the flowers at my baby's grave." WHAT?! What a messed up sentence. To go along with this messed up world. How could I possibly look forward to seeing flowers on my baby's GRAVE?! I guess that is what my life has come to. I can't have my baby in my arms, so I like to see flowers at her grave. It's certainly nothing I ever fathomed being my life, but there is also no changing it. You're gone, baby Stella. Gone, forever. From this horrible, painful, messed up world. You're on to much bigger and better things up in Heaven. Can't wait to see you again.

And I will give him the morning star. Rev 2:28

Mommy misses you

Found this on another friend's blog, who is grieving her baby son. Again, I could not have said it better myself, unfortunately. 

“Do not judge the bereaved mother. She comes in many forms. She is breathing, but she is dying. She may look young, but inside she has become ancient. She smiles, but her heart sobs. She walks, she talks, she cooks, she cleans, she works, she IS, but she IS NOT, all at once. She is here, but part of her is elsewhere for eternity."

You should be here baby girl, all day, everyday, in everything I do. I cannot comprehend how much my heart misses you. 

A song for comfort

A good friend of my fathers told him about a song, in hopes to bring our heartbroken family some comfort. He said this song is helpful to his family at this time, as they go through their own trials and pain. 

I would say it's a pretty good one, that really speaks to what we must continue to believe in. A greater purpose. Blessings. Healing. Peace. Even if it is through desperation and darkness sometimes.

Laura Story- "Blessings"

We pray for blessings, we pray for peace
Comfort for family, protection while we sleep
We pray for healing, for prosperity
We pray for Your mighty hand to ease our suffering
And all the while, You hear each spoken need
Yet love us way too much to give us lesser things

'Cause what if your blessings come through rain drops
What if Your healing comes through tears
What if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know You're near
What if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise

We pray for wisdom, Your voice to hear
We cry in anger when we cannot feel You near
We doubt your goodness, we doubt your love
As if every promise from Your word is not enough
And all the while, You hear each desperate plea
And long that we'd have faith to believe

'Cause what if your blessings come through rain drops
What if Your healing comes through tears
What if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know You're near
What if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise

When friends betray us
When darkness seems to win
We know that pain reminds this heart
That this is not,
This is not our home
It's not our home

'Cause what if your blessings come through rain drops
What if Your healing comes through tears
What if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know You're near

What if my greatest disappointments or the aching of this life
Is the revealing of a greater thirst this world can't satisfy
What if trials of this life
The rain, the storms, the hardest nights
Are your mercies in disguise

Couldn't have said it better myself. What if?

Yet I am confident I will see the Lord's goodness while I am here in the land of the living. Psalms 27:13

Miss you today and everyday, baby girl.