The aftermath, part ii

I know I have been extremely neglectful of this blog lately, but I do really want to finish Joy's story.  So, when we left off, we had just left the hospital and had a beautiful service for Joy.  So now what?  It was back to real life.  On the surface, everything was much the same as it had been before - I was a stay at home mom with an active little boy.  But I was acutely aware of just how normal and same everything was.

Thankfully, I felt amazing well physically quite soon after Joy's birth.  This meant that we were out and about, doing all that regular "fun" summer stuff.  But that's not where I wanted to be.  I remember breaking down one beautiful summer evening as the three of us were at our neighborhood park.  I didn't want to be at the park - I wanted to be home on the couch, nursing a newborn and managing a wild toddler as I had imagined months before.

Honestly, this time is a little fuzzy in my brain.  With the Olympics coming up soon, I was trying to remember why the last Olympic games seemed so fuzzy to me (unusual, because I LOVE the Olympics).  Then I realized that they were taking place four years ago, just as Joy was born and died.  No wonder I don't remember the results very clearly!

Anyway, I do know that it was a strange mix of emotions.  For the first few weeks, I was terrified that someone might ask if I was pregnant, since I looked, as most newly postpartum women do, 5 months pregnant.  Nothing fit and nothing looked right.  I remember it being frustrating in the same way after Liam was born, but at least I had a cute baby to distract everyone from my lumpy look!  Mercifully, I got very few comments or questions.  Looking back, it must have seemed odd to people whom I saw on a regular basis (librarians, the grocery store clerk) that one day I was very very pregnant and the next I was not but did not have a baby.  I guess in those situations people knew better than to ask, and I was so grateful.  For as openly as I can discuss it now, it was very hard to discuss it at that point.  I did have one situation where a lady I saw at a CSA pickup excitedly ask "where's the baby?" when she saw I wasn't pregnant.  I was able to calmly explain that she passed away shortly after birth but that we were expecting that to happen.  Of course, she expressed her sympathy and apologized for asking, and I was put in the odd position of comforting someone else over my child's passing.

At the same time, Joy's passing made me even more grateful for Liam and the crazy normalcy he brought to my life.  Not that he was a replacement for her, but a welcome distraction, and a reminder of the blessings that God had brought into our lives already.  And of course, he wasn't about to let me sit on the couch and wallow in self-pity - we had parks to visit and matchbox cars to drive.  He had a terrible transition from crib to big boy bed, but part of me didn't mind snuggling him in his bed as he fell asleep...it was good to be needed by my "baby".

I was (and am) grateful for the continued support of our church family during this time. Our church has an amazing meal ministry in which volunteers deliver meals thrice weekly for a month or two after babies are born, during illnesses, etc.  The church graciously provided meals for us for several weeks after Joy's birth.  Part of me felt slightly guilty about this because I was physically capable of cooking for our family (see above regarding feeling fine), but mostly I appreciated the fact that they were willing to care for us in this time of mourning.  And though I wasn't taking care of a new baby, it was still emotionally and physically draining taking care of a two year old during this strange period.  Speaking of which, our children's ministry director graciously offered Liam a free spot in our church mom's day out program for the remainder of the summer.  I really appreciated the chance to flop on the couch and just be quiet and still, take some time to journal, or even go and sit at Joy's grave.  "The church" today often has a bad reputation, but I think we saw the church at its best during this time.

From there, life just continues to go on.  I don't think you ever get over the loss of a child, but the grief ebbs and flows and changes.  Certain situations happen that bring our loss sharply into focus again, and then other times it is not in the forefront of my mind.  For example, we have a group of friends whom we have been close with since we were all young single people.  Now most of us are married with children, most of whom happen to be boys (just recently a few girls joined the clan, but at least 3/4 of our offspring are male).  We were on a camping trip recently with this group, and one couldn't help but observe that ALL NINE children on the trip (6 and under, may I add) were BOYS! Of course, this observation was verbalized by myself and others over the course of the weekend, and every single time I couldn't help but think that there should be a grubby little redheaded girl in the midst of all those boys.  Of course no one is making that remark to be hurtful, and I even commented on myself, but it certainly stings a little every time the topic is brought up there or in other similar situations.  I have a few friends who occasionally chime in with a comment that shows they have not forgotten about Joy.  It's not necessary, but it is truly appreciated in those instances to know that though she is out of sight, she is not out of mind. 

While I've always mourned the fact that I wouldn't get to see her grow up, that has become more real lately.   Four years removed, I frequently see a few girls were born at the same time of Joy.  I've always considered this a mixed blessing - it's kind of nice to be able to see approximately how old and big Joy would be, but of course it's reminder of our loss.  For some reason, perhaps because they are growing up from toddlers to little girls, it's really hard to fathom that we could have a 4 year daughter in the house, playing ponies and princesses and watching Frozen ad nauseam.  However, I am so blessed with my 2 boys, and truth be told, probably make a better boy mom than a girl mom. Bring on the dirt and the noise and the trucks and Legos!  

Happy 4th Birthday, Joy!

I think I've started every birthday post on Facebook or my blog for all three of my children with these words..."I can't believe X is Y years old". So true to form, let me say, I can't believe our sweet Joy is 4 years old...or would be 4 years old today...or was born 4 years ago today. (I never even know quite how to phrase it but you get the point!)

These four years have passed quickly in some ways, and yet it seems so long ago that Joy was born and we got to hold her and be with her for those few moments. In that time, Liam has grown from a inquisitive chubby toddler to an inquisitive long-legged kindergartener (eek!) and another inquisitive preschooler has joined our family.  

While the birth and passing of Joy has brought sorrow and sadness to our life, her brief life has also brought many *joys*. We've seen the support of close friends, family, and the church, who celebrated her birth and remember it four years later. We've seen God working in our lives and are excited to testify to that fact. We were able to participate in scientific research of several kinds (I'm hoping to post more on that soon.). We've been able to walk alongside others facing pregnancy and infant loss. 

So much about the situation is bittersweet, and it is epitomized in hearing Liam talk about his baby sister. In the way that children are, he is very candid about the situation and talks from the heart without reservation. His understanding of Joy's life has continued to grow - I don't remember the first time we told her about Joy, but we talk about her frequently (usually led by his cues) and fill him in gradually as is age-appropriate. At this point, he knows that she was born when he was 2 and died a few minutes later because something was very wrong with her head. He is so sweet in talking about her with Noah - "Noah did you know we have a sister? Let me show you the picture of her feet (which is on display in the living room). I will tell you about her." Oh, it just breaks my heart, but makes it swell at the same time. Just the way he matter-of-factly uses the word "sister" - it's not a word we hear in our house frequently. And the fact that no 6 year old should have to explain to his 2 year old brother about their deceased baby sister. But he handles it so well, even if in a different way than an adult does. (By the way, I'm not making Liam out to be some kind of angel, he certainly has his faults...but the way he deals with this situation amazes me.) He proudly told his mom's day out teacher that today is his sister's birthday and we're going to have pizza and cupcakes to celebrate at the cemetery. I guess for him, it is just part of his life. He asks questions when he is curious, processes it, and moves on. The other day we were folding laundry and he asked me "Did Joy ever wear clothes?" I told him that she did wear clothes in the hospital and that she was in fact buried in clothes. He thought for a minute, said "that's kind of weird that she was buried in clothes." I agreed, then the conversation changed topics. I'm grateful for this not-so-little guy and his sweet care of his baby sister's memory. Here's a picture of the boys last fall with their "Joy bear" who was lovingly made by Molly Bears in the exact weight of Joy when she was born.

I don't think you ever get over the loss of a child, but the grief ebbs and flows and changes. While I've always mourned the fact that I wouldn't get to see her grow up, that has become more intense lately. At first, I was mourning the loss of that tiny baby, of growing a child I could not take home. But now, particularly as Noah is growing older and has such a distinct and entertaining personality, I am mourning the fact that I will never get to watch her grown up. I often wonder what Joy would have been like. (I mean I understand that her growing older was not part of God's plan, but I'm just letting my imagination wander here). Would she have been spunky and energetic and analytical like her brothers? Or more reserved like her mom? Athletic or artsy? Silly or serious? As the boys turn from babies into real little people and we see their unique selves emerging, it makes me mourn for missing those milestones and funny moments with a sweet red-headed girl (at least that much I know for sure!). 

In the past, I've struggled with how to celebrate this day. This year, I feel like I'm confident with the plan we have in place. It's still a strange way, but I think we're celebrating in the best way we can. Earlier in the week, we mulched her pretty little garden that some good friends donated in her honor - full of pink-blooming perennials. This morning, while the boys are having fun at Mom's Day Out, I am taking the time I normally spend working to update this long-neglected blog. And this evening we will take pizza, cupcakes, and balloons to the cemetery and have a little picnic. (I'm hoping the weather cooperates this year!)

Each year for Joy's birthday we have also made donations in her memory - to our church (who is planning some artwork for the nursery), to the pregnancy resource center, etc. This year, in addition, I am planning to donate some books to Beverly's Birthdays, which is a Pittsburgh non-profit that provides birthday cheer for children experiencing homelessness and families in-need. Every Birthday Cheer Bin that goes out to a child on their birthday contains a book along with 5-6 other gender and age appropriate gifts, including a toothbrush and toothpaste. Last year they distributed over 1,100 of these Birthday Cheer Bins.   We love birthdays around our house, and though we don't have extravagant parties, we do make them a special occasion for the special person.  In Joy's case, there's no one to shower with fun and gifts, so it seems like the perfect chance to share the love with a little someone who is here but is not in a situation to receive a birthday gift or party.  If you'd like to join me in donating, you can do so here.   And all donations will be matched 50% by Usborne, plus of course I will be donating any commission I made because I'm not doing this to personally profit! (And it made me set a goal, so I just picked $400 for her 4th birthday - I'm happy just to donate our own contribution.)

So happy birthday, sweet girl! We love you and miss you and can't wait to see you again someday! 

Happy (belated) birthday to me!

This is slightly off topic, but it's my blog, right?  Yesterday was my birthday.  Birthdays have always been (and still are) kind of a big deal in my family - not necessarily with elaborate gifts, but a special day to celebrate you.  We got to pick what we wanted to eat (and later choose a restaurant), got thoughtful gift, and were just generally the center of attention.

I recently became aware of a nonprofit, Beverly's Birthdays, that helps spread this same birthday cheer to children experiencing homelessness and to families in need.  You can check out their website here, for more info, but generally speaking, they provide birthday parties and gifts to kids who otherwise wouldn't have this kind of birthday celebration.  Every Birthday Cheer Bin that goes out to a child on their birthday contains a book along with 5-6 other gender and age appropriate gifts, including a toothbrush and toothpaste.  Last year, Beverly's Birthdays distributed over 1,100 of these Birthday Cheer Bins.  

So for my 36th birthday, I'm hoping to raise $360 dollars that will be matched at 50% through Usborne Books and More and matched 25% by me (I will be donating any commission I earn too so I don't personally benefit from this financially.) to donate some amazing books to the children served by Beverly's Birthdays. If I reach my goal of $360 dollars, that would be over $630 of amazing, high-quality children's books donated to a great cause! 

I'd love it if you'd donate even a few dollars to help some little ones experience the great feeling of being celebrated in a special way!   Here's the link if you're interested in donating - https://www.youcaring.com/beverly-s-birthdays-546326

Good Tidings of Great Joy

As we decorated our house for Christmas this weekend, I was reminded of God's faithfulness to us in even the smallest of details and wanted to share it with all of you.

To set the stage, it was Christmas 2012, just four months after we had laid Joy to rest. I had been having a rough few days - it seemed like everyone I knew was pregnant or having healthy babies.  Even Princess Kate had recently announced her pregnancy.  All those babies and pregnancies coupled with the general emotional overload that can come with the holidays had just left me feeling down. On this particular Tuesday, I had been in tears at my Bible study as I asked the ladies to pray for me in my sorrow.

Later that night, we started decorating for Christmas, even though it was the last thing I felt like doing.  From here, I will tell the story via the email I typed to those dear Bible study ladies the next morning:

 "We were unpacking the Christmas decorations last night. I opened one box and spotted a Christmas card holder that hangs on the wall on the top of the pile.  I was excited because I vaguely remembered shopping for one last year but couldn't remember if I was successful or not and wanted a place to put all those cards that are already piling up.  The weird part was that Eric was excited too - I couldn't figure out why he cared about a Christmas card holder.  I asked him why, and he said "look at it".  When I looked closer, I almost burst into tears (a common theme of yesterday for me apparently!).  It says "Good news of great JOY" with the joy part in huge letters.  

After seeing it, the story of me buying it came back to me and I was amazed at God's provision and timing, even in the little details.  Last year after Christmas (when I was pregnant but didn't yet know that Joy had anencephaly and we hadn't even considered the name Joy) I went to the Christian bookstore to get a Little People nativity set that was on clearance.  While I was there, I decided to look for a cardholder since I hadn't found one elsewhere.  They had a few, but none that I loved because I wanted one that displayed the cards not just collected them.  But this one was cheap and the boys were waiting in the car, so I just grabbed it.  Little did I know the significance it would have a year later when I unpacked it.  I know that "joy" is a common theme of Christmas and Christmas decorations, but the timing and the circumstances and even the style of the banner with the family silhouette on it give me no doubt that God's hand was at work. I know that God is faithful and cares for us, but I was so thankful to have a literal sign of it yesterday!"

You better believe that that Christmas card holder will be hanging on our wall for years to come, even if it's tattered and torn. It will serve as yet another Ebenezer (a sign of God's faithfulness and help, see this post) on this journey. 

Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day

Today, October 15th, is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day.  It's kind of a depressing "holiday," but an important one to address a topic that is all to common but infrequently addressed.  People fall into one of three categories on this one - those who have never experienced pregnancy or infant loss firsthand and hope they never will (I'm not saying that disparagingly at all - of course you would never WANT to experience such a thing and of course there are lots of sub-categories here, but that's a topic for another day), those who have silently suffered such a loss, and those that are public about having lost a baby either in or out of the womb.  There's nothing wrong with any of those categories, but the day means different things to each of them. Personally, this blog has helped me move from category number 2 (not that my story was completely unknown, but I just didn't have much to say publicly on the matter) to number 3 over the past year.  It's been cathartic for me to share Joy's story, and from what I've witnessed, helpful to others too. 

So this year, on Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day, I have a couple of things to say.  First, if you have lost one or more pregnancies or babies, I extend my sincerest condolences.  I don't have any sage words for you, but I am happy to listen if you need an ear to chat; if you need someone to understand when you struggle with healthy babies around you and as you mourn what could have been I'm here. I'm not saying it's something you HAVE to talk about, but if you want to talk about it and don't know how or where or with whom to start, I'd be honored to hear about your little one.

When I was carrying Joy, my associate pastor's wife gave me a lovely book that really helped me deal with Joy's loss. It's called "Safe in the Arms of God" by John McArthur.  It's a small volume that talks about the theology of the death of a child.  As a Christian, I had always hoped/assumed that children who died would go to heaven, and that was enough for me.  (I also knew that children who die do not become angels, a common term in the baby loss community that really irks me.  People don't become angles! So please don't refer to Joy as my little angel.  Okay, stepping off my soap box now. Haha!)  But facing the loss of my own child, I wanted something a little more solid to back up that vague idea.  In his book, MacArthur makes a compelling Biblical argument to support the idea that all children who die in infancy are saved by the great mercy of God and are safe for eternity in the arms of a loving God.  I'd recommend to anyone who has lost a child or as a thoughtful gift to anyone you know walking this difficult road. 

Lastly, I want to share another song that has been special to us in our journey. (Yes, that's your cue to break out the tissues.)  The song is called "Hello, Goodbye" and is written and performed by Michael W. Smith. I haven't been able to find a ton of background information, but I know that it was written for a friend of Smith's who lost a baby who was just a few days old. The odd part is that this song is on a CD that I had in high school and college. I knew the tune and even the words, but somehow the actual subject matter had never registered in my brain!  I will confess that I don't like to listen to this song much anymore, because it was written for (and references) a baby named Noah, which is our younger son's name.  But it is still appropriate to share today, for all of those who have lost a child far too soon. I always liked to put Joy's name in the lyrics, although it was not quite the right fit rhythmically.  (After about 3 minutes, it gets a little repetitive, so feel free to just listen to the first half.) 

A Celebration of Life!

"I never thought I'd be doing this!" is the thought that came to mind repeatedly in the days immediately following Joy's birth and death.  Planning a funeral is never fun, but planning a service for your recently born child is particularly un-fun.

Before Joy was born, upon the recommendation of our pastor, we met with a very kind funeral director from Laughlin Memorial Chapel and made some basic plans. They were so gracious and generous to us and donated their services and even the tiny coffin for Joy.  If you ever need the services of a funeral home in Pittsburgh, I'd highly recommend them (there you go - I never would suspect that at the age of 35, I'd be able to personally recommend a funeral home!). 

God continued to provide for us materially in this time.  Many years ago, someone had donated some grave sites to Eric's parents' church.  I forget the exact sequence of events, but upon hearing of Joy's condition, they offered to give us not just one site for Joy, but three, so that we could be buried next to her when the time comes.  What a blessing!  Furthermore, the sites are in a beautiful, park-like cemetery that is just up the street from the apartment where Eric and I lived for a few months when we were newlyweds.  We would walk or run (me reluctantly) through that cemetery during that first summer of marriage having no idea the significance that this place would come to hold in our lives. 

Leading up to Joy's birth, we had planned to have a quiet graveside service with just our immediate families. When we met with our pastor after her birth, he suggested using the mausoleum at the cemetery where Joy was to be buried as it would be more comfortable for everyone and easier to gather.  Fine by me.  Then he gently suggested that we might consider inviting a wider circle of friends to Joy's service. I was slightly surprised by this idea and we went home to think about it after planning the rest of her service.  After giving it some thought, we decided that we really would like our family and friends who had so wonderfully supported us through our pregnancy to get a chance to be a part of the celebration of Joy'w life.  And so we invited many of our friends and issued an open invitation to our church family to attend Joy's memorial service. 

With our pastor's help, we planned a simple service that we hoped would be meaningful for both us and our family and friends.  The only thing that remained was figuring out what to wear. Haha! It sounds trivial, but it didn't feel trivial at the time.  I had no idea what size I would be after giving birth, so I couldn't get something in advance. So 2 days after giving birth, I headed out to the mall. Actually, WE headed out to the mall.  I was insistent that I could go by myself, but in retrospect, I'm so glad Eric came with me.  I'm not a huge shopper, but shopping for a dress at 3 days post-partum is probably at the top of my least-pleasant shopping tasks - another one of those things I never thought I'd be doing.  I kind of shudder thinking about it even now.  But in the end, we found a dress that fit and was at least moderately flattering given the circumstances.  Thank goodness that Eric was there to give an unbiased opinion and encourage me to spend more money than I had planned on the dress we found. I can still picture the checkout desk where I stood praying that the cashier would not ask me what the dress was for (and she didn't).  I hope I will never need that dress again, but it hangs in my closet as a memorial to that time in my life.

Leading up to the memorial service, the prayer of my heart was that my mind would be clear during the service.  I didn't want to go through the service in a fog; I wanted to be fully present and really celebrate my daughter's life.  Just in case, we had a plan B - we decided to set up a tripod and record the service. And I'm so glad we did and have a lasting remember of that special day.  But God really answered this prayer too.  I was calm and cool and can still remember the details of the day with clarity.  I actually felt more composed than many in attendance at the service. I was worried it would seem like I was uncaring or unemotional, but I'm hoping people knew otherwise.  For us, it was just one more step in this journey, but I think for many attending the service, seeing that teeny tiny casket brought such a physical reality to the situation that it was hard not to react.   Not that I enjoyed thinking about my daughter in that little white box, but the events of the past few days had prepared us for this as well. And of course, many of our friends have little ones of their own, so seeing that baby-sized casket hit particularly close to home.

That morning, we dropped Liam off at the church.  Our church graciously arranged childcare for anyone who wanted to attend the service so that we didn't have the distraction of little ones at the service.  Eric and I arrived early to the cemetery and drove past Joy's grave site. It was hard to see that hole that was so big yet so small awaiting out little girl.  From there, we drove to the mausoleum and took our seats in the front row without too much conversation.  A small crowd quietly gathered. In the end, there were about 50 people there. I made a list of them when I got home so that I wouldn't forget anyone who was there on that special day.

The best word to describe the service is "beautiful."  It's the word that I heard repeated by nearly everyone I talked to afterwards.  It wasn't long, but it was meaningful, from the songs sung to the words spoken.  So beautiful, in fact, that I would like to share part of it with you now.  Talk about a 180 degree shift from my initial plans of an ultra-private service, right?  It's only about 10 minutes, and I would love it if you would take the time to listen/watch. I think Pastor Wolling so eloquently summarized what I have taken 6 months to type here (and I'm not done yet - haha!).

I'm no theological expert, but I do know what I've learned about God through the process of carrying Joy and would be happy to talk to you if any of this strikes a chord or raises any questions.  And if I don't know the answer, I'd be happy to search them out with you. 

The Aftermath, part i

As you can tell by the title, this post might be a little depressing. Perhaps "aftermath" is too dramatic of a word, but I just wanted to share about the hours and days after Joy's birth and passing.  I still maintain that the days after her diagnosis were the hardest part of our experience with a fatal birth defect, but this was a close second.  Some of this might be hard to read (and some of it is hard to reflect on and put in to words!), but I think it's important to be honest about the hard parts.  I also know that this might be read by others who are expecting a child with anencephaly and so I want it to be an honest reflection of our experience.

So when I left off, Joy had just been born.  She quickly passed away, and that started the clock for the two hours we had with her before she was to be taken away for her organ donation procedure. I had such a mixture of emotions immediately after Joy was born.  Of course there was sadness, but there was also a sense of relief. Don't judge me yet - keep reading!  It had been a long and difficult five months, both physically and emotionally. I had done all I could over those months for my baby - keeping her alive, preparing for her birth, and trying to be a good mom to her big brother in the midst of emotional turmoil.  And after she was born, there was a sense of relief at having completed my task. I had done everything I could do for her and had done it to the best of my ability.  It almost goes without saying that I would have changed the outcome if I could, but I couldn't.   I'm sure the hormone surge from my natural birth helped, but immediately after her birth I was very calm and almost able to enjoy being with her.  I was proud of myself and of my little girl!  It was actually kind of strange, because everyone around me was in tears, but at this point I was just kind of serene and soaking it all in.

As you saw in the pictures, we spent most of the time together with our parents and siblings and Joy. We also had a plethora of handprint and footprint kits.  We got a couple sets of footprints on paper, a plaster mold of her footprint, and then a handprint on a ceramic bulb that I later had glazed. We had several other options of memorabilia, but I didn't want to spend all of my brief time with her trying to make physical memories.  No matter how many hand and foot prints and pictures I had, it would never be enough, so I decided to concentrate on being with her while we could.  In retrospect, I still agree with that decision. I treasure the prints I do have, but having more wouldn't do anything more to assuage my grief.

A few people have asked me if I have any regrets from my time with Joy or anything I would do differently. I only have one small regret.  In my preparations for her birth, I read a suggestion about choosing a scented lotion to apply to your baby so that you could later associate that smell with your child. I loved the idea, because as my sister can attest, I have an excellent sense of smell and have a lot of memories associated with scent. (We even play a game called "What does that smell remind you of?")  I spent a lot of time sniffing lotion and chose one that I thought was just right.  But then when the time came, I decided I didn't want to put it on her...her skin was so soft and perfect and I didn't want to change her natural smell or feel.  But now three years removed, I wish I had a scent to associate with her. I put her blankets in a plastic bag, but the smell has faded. I still have the lotion I picked for her, but I do wish I had applied it on her soft little arms and legs.

As 1:00 AM neared, our families said goodbye to us, and more importantly, to Joy.  It was the last time they would see her this side of heaven.  We spent a few moments with her alone, and then handed her off to our Nurse Joan* and the Organ Transplant Coordinator Alice* who carried her back to the operating room. I'm planning a separate post later about our organ donation experience from start to finish, so I will cover this in more detail then. I don't remember exactly how long she was gone - maybe an hour or two? We tried our best to nap then, but it was hard to fall asleep.

After her surgery, Alice carried her back to us.  It's a small detail, but I really appreciated the fact that they carried her in their arms to and from us, like the precious bundle she was, instead of wheeling her around in a bassinet or gurney.  It made me feel like they really cared for her as a person, not just an unfortunate incident or a source of donated tissue.  Anyway, they had bathed her and dressed her in the little white preemie outfit I had purchased for her and wrapped her up in her blanket.  They had told us that part of the procedure involved cooling her body down rapidly to preserve the tissue (I think - I'm a little fuzzy on the details).  All I know is that when she was handed back to us, she was very cold and stiff and her skin was very dark.  Honestly, it was horrible.  Right after she was born and passed, though her face was dark, the rest of her skin was soft and healthy looking and she seemed like a peacefully sleeping baby.  After her surgery, she just seemed cold and dead. Which of course she was, but now her appearance matched the reality and it was hard to deal with.

Eric crawled up in the bed with us and we snuggled her close, crying and talking and just trying to soak in the last moments that we had with her.  We listened to a few songs that we thought of as "her" songs.  At this point, we were absolutely exhausted, having been awake for nearly 24 hours.  We had made arrangements with the funeral home that we could call them when Joy had passed when we were ready to have them pick her up.  (Another small detail, but somehow I hated the idea of her sitting in the hospital morgue and would rather pass her directly to the funeral director. He was recommended by our pastor and was very kind and caring.)  We started to doze off, so we carefully placed her in the little newborn bassinet next to her bed and decided to take a brief nap. A big mess ensued here between the nurses and the funeral home and us and what was happening and I don't even really understand or remember it, but thankfully Eric took care of it and the funeral home was very gracious about the whole thing.

After our quick nap, I was somewhat refreshed. We found out that the funeral director was on his way, so we prepared to say our goodbyes to Joy. I am glad I had that time to recharge briefly before it was time to say goodbye to Joy.  We listened to her song one more time, snuggled and kissed her and told her we loved her and we'd see her again one day.  It felt so inadequate at the time - it's one of those moments in life that is surreal and hard and you just don't know what is right so you do the best you can.  And then Mike, the funeral director arrived, impeccably dressed in a suit at 6 AM, and we carefully handed our little pink bundle to him.  He treated as precious cargo, but it was still so very hard to hand your baby to a virtual stranger, knowing it is the last time you would ever hold her.

And so that was that. Just twenty-four hours before, I had woken in my bed at home, with Joy alive and kicking inside of me. Now we sat alone in the room where I had delivered her, having just handed her still body to someone to prepare her for burial.  Talk about a whirlwind!

Shortly after, we were transferred to a postpartum room. The hospital graciously put us on a surgical recovery floor instead of on the unit with all those brand new babies.  Physically I felt fine, so I was discharged from the hospital about twelve hours after Joy was born.  There just really wasn't a reason to stay any longer.  But what I can tell you is there aren't too many feelings worse than leaving a hospital, having just given birth, but without your baby.  It was awful!   (Looking back, I think that's why I was so set on staying at the hospital the whole time Noah was in the NICU. I did leave once or twice to go to Target or to get some food, but for most of the week, I just stayed camped out in the hospital. I was not mentally willing to come from that hospital without a baby again.)  And so Eric and I headed home on a hot Saturday afternoon, back to one curly redhead but without another.