Lucy Love Project 2014

We did it guys, we did it! The Lucy Love Project was a success, and I owe it to all of you!

When we started the Lucy Love Project two years ago I had no idea what it would turn into as time went on. I was worried I wouldn't be able to keep it up. Time is so precious, and spare minutes are few and far between. Yet, I often think about how life would be a whole lot more crazy with Lucy here. I'd surely have even fewer spare minutes. My heart longs to provide for her and to express my love for her, therefore directing some of the extra time I have toward this project is quite meaningful to me.

To our families and friends -- YOU ARE AWESOME. The way you step forward to be a part of this movement is amazing. 

To friends of friends -- people I never knew before this -- thank you for sharing your stories of your NICU babies. Babies that have survived, and are ROCKING it. These stories make me happy, because I know it wasn't an easy journey. Thank you for joining this as a tribute to the care you received in the NICU. 

As always, I must also thank my amazing community of other loss moms. The women I know that have experienced pregnancy and infant loss seem to know my heart like NO other. To have their support in this is a beautiful thing.

After collecting an impressive amount of donations... OVER $2000!... We decided that the need for blankets was greatest, and we went from doing 200 blankets last year to 300 this year! The second need was for clothing, so we were able to order an additional 200 screen-printed onesies.

Two years ago, my friend and past co-worker Lindsay created a logo and t-shirt design to be used for this project. I am forever grateful. This year she helped me design little tags to wrap around the blankets. Aren't they cute?

My dad's company, United Sport Apparel, helps us to get the blankets at low costs --- so we can get higher quantities of the product. We added the sweet little embroidered hearts again this year.

One evening friends came over to help me roll blankets and tie tags. They're seriously the best. Avery also was eager to help, so she assisted in the "production" line as well. In my last batch, she did a really wonderful job tying the ribbons.

We delivered the blankets to the NICU at Levine Children's Hospital on October 18th. Seeing our handwritten notes and boxes stacked up high, my heart surged with joy, but I'm not gonna lie...  saying "goodbye" was hard. I prayed over those boxes and over the blankets --- that they may find their way into the arms of those who need them most.

Avery drew a picture of Lucy with angel wings for the nurses. Inside the card read "THANK YOU." Just seeing it left me teary-eyed. This project really means something to her now so I didn't know what to say to her when she begged to see the babies at the hospital... which were not able to do. (Although, much to her delight, when we entered the Levine Children's Hospital they had a huge life-size cardboard cutout of Elsa from Disney's Frozen - it served as a wonderful distraction).

I am humbled and appreciative of the love and support that was put in to this project. Thank you to everyone who donated time, money and energy to help with this. 

I must thank my daughter Lucy, who ignited a spark, and sprung us into action. We have a choice - to live in darkness or embrace the light. God has not let me down. He renews my hope daily, even on the hard days. I have a passion to share the light that I have found in this role as a loss mom and encourage others to do the same.

Pass It On is a song I sang at church camp when I was younger. The words ring so true:

It only takes a spark to get a fire going
And soon all those around can warm up in the glowing
That's how it is with God's love one you experience it
You'll spread His love to everyone
You want to pass it on.

Almost Three Years

Hi, it’s me. (The strange girl that used to keep a blog here!)

I have some thoughts I need to share as we approach another birthday without my sweet daughter Lucy. It’s hard to believe that it’s almost been three years since we met her. I see other babies and I still wish she was here. That her fate would have been different. That her purpose was to live here on Earth for a while with the rest of us, instead of being swooped up to heaven within her first week.

A friend of mine’s almost-three year old is building sand castles on beach trips and playing in the dirt. I wish I had my little almost three year old and her extra set of dirty little finger nails to scrub. My almost-three year old nephew is talking up a storm and is a master of breaking toys. He’s like an adorable mini-Incredible Hulk. I wish a could carry on silly (and sometimes completely irrational or repetitive) conversations and tend to a game that doesn’t work like it should because someone didn’t use “gentle hands.” I just love the 2- and 3- year old age of discovery. So if I stare at your three-year old for longer than I should, know my mama heart is grieving, and also receiving. I'm taking in all the goodness, and sweetness, and maybe even rottenness that three can bring.

So, here’s something about the almost three year mark: I still struggle with how to talk about our family. When I go somewhere with Avery and someone asks me, “Is she your only one?” I pause, my palms sweat, my heart races. How would that person know that they asked me such a loaded question. In one fleeting moment I analyze everything about that stranger – and decide how much I share. Now that I have a third child it is very easy to gush about my beautiful 10 month old son. Because, well, he envelopes all that is good, and joyous, and fun. But it hurts to not include Lucy. And it hurts to include her too. It is painful to open up my heart and soul to a stranger -- for me, yes, but also because it feels like I'm dropping a bombshell on that person. I tell them I have a daughter that I lost as a baby… and then I sit back silently asking them to choose a reaction – and plead that they make it good and acceptable to a grieving mother. That’s not how I FEEL, it’s just what it feels like.

Recently my 5-year old daughter taught me something. She taught me how easy those conversations can be if I allow them to be. She was chatting to a neighborhood girl much older than she when she just said, “I have a brother AND a sister.” She continued after thinking for a minute, “They are both babies. But my sister is in heaven. She came second but she will always be a baby.” The older girl said, “You know, that’s ok.” And my daughter said, “Yep,” and then continued on to the next topic. This was so cool to witness the ease and confidence.

Also, one day Avery’s Pre-K teacher told me about Avery coming up in the middle of an activity and said that she really missed her sister Lucy. Kathy, her teacher, said she pulled Avery up into her lap and told her all about her own daughter, who also went to heaven a long time ago when SHE was a baby. The tears fell from my eyes as she shared with me about how close to home our story hit. About her own sweet daughter that never got to live here on Earth. And she said that though it had been a long time ago, Avery opened her wide open – the feelings were still deep and the void was still there. It hurt less all these years later, but the pain was very real. She confided in a friend of hers how this little girl in her class had brought her back to a time in her life that she so rarely shared anymore.

Then Avery's teacher Kathy shared something else with me. It was about one of her living daughters. Her grown daughter had told her recently how much it affected her life knowing that her mother lost that baby all those years ago. She told her mom that she thought about her missing sister a lot and imagined how life would be different growing up with her. She mentioned what an impact it had on her life and how she lived.

When I worry about my kids not having their sister here to share a bond with, I will remember that THANKFULLY there is no line between heaven and Earth that keeps love confined. When you keep someone’s memory alive, you are doing incredible things for others and connecting with people in unexpected places. You are creating a space for your children to think and imagine and dream. And hope. And pray.

I don’t know that it gets “easier” to talk about your family when death is a part of your story. So, we will see how it goes. No matter the choice I make in that split second when someone asks about my kids, I will make the one that is right for me at that very moment. It doesn’t always make sense, but that is a part of what makes me, me.

I’m so blown away by what my kids… all three of them… have to share with me, and the world. Share on, my little ones. Shine so bright that the whole world can see! I will continue to learn from you.

Questions and Memories

I replayed Lucy's birth today in my mind. I do this quite often and as I do I ask myself many questions. Some are old questions I have asked myself many times, but others are new. Did she cry when they took her from me? No, but I heard her make a sound. The doctors took her across the room to look at her before they gave her to me. How long was she away from me? I don't know. The world was still yet my head was spinning. I would otherwise assume that I was holding my breath, but I think I remember asking aloud, "How is she? Is she alright?" over and over again. I remember Kathy, my midwife, inquiring of the doctors in a determined voice to get the answer I sought. I remember Kathy to the right side of my hospital bed, and my husband on the left side. I remember the waiting, and the feeling of my legs, numb - the desperation in knowing they would fail me if I tried to spring from the bed to run over to her. It felt like my heart left my body to be with Lucy.

Then they brought her to me, wrapped up in a blanket and said, "She's doing GREAT." I held her and cried. And laughed and smiled. I examined the cleft in her lip and dreamed of a future for her. I knew it wouldn't be easy but knew that she was special. I was determined to help her have the best life I knew to give her.

Sometimes I'm glad I didn't know at that point she had Trisomy 13 and that she'd only live for less than 6 days. Other times I feel so guilty I didn't know. In those moments of doubt and sadness I want to go back and find out during pregnancy so that I could have been more ready to... wait, ready for what exactly? To know she was going to die? I can't imagine how hard that would have been. It's interesting to me that I still deliberate on if I should have done the amnio to test for Trisomy prenatally. Could it have been better if I had known? The answer is always the same. To know or not know would have been tough. And the outcome is the same. She'd still be gone.

March was Trisomy Awareness month. I saw others write about it and talk about it. I feel like I lost my voice. I don't have the energy to write about it, but that doesn't mean that I don't think about what it means to have a daughter with Trisomy 13. March is always a hard month regardless because it's the month we found out that things with my 2nd pregnancy weren't "right." Three years have gone by and so much has changed for the better, yet I just know I'll always ache to hold my sweet Lucy and kiss her face.

There are so many questions and so many memories. I can't separate myself from all of it because my heart is eternally intertwined to my baby girl's. Yet the memories fade, so I will try and document them the best as I can as they come back.

October and November 2013

Lots to celebrate in October and November!

Jeff's birthday - October 7th, 2013

The Butterfly Release held by Levine Children's Hospital and Kindermourn. It's always a beautiful way to celebrate Lucy's memory.

Here we are with Lucy's memorial brick in the Children's Walkway

Sweet Avery drew this picture at school and brought it home to me.  My heart melted. Sweet girl will always be connected to her sister and knows how much I miss her.

Austin continues to grow and grow and grow! He still loves his bath time best!

Austin started daycare at Ms. Carol's house and we are having a great experience once again with in-home childcare. We already feel like Carol is family and are thrilled with all she does for Austin.

Meeting new friends - Emma, Austin and Deke

Football seems to always be on the TV this time of year! Rooting for the Bears (and PANTHERS!).

Pumpkin patching

Down on the farm.

"I can see the whole world from up here!"

Sweet babe sleeping on me.

The Magnarinis

Avery and Will

We visited Nana and Papa in Hilton Head, and got to see cousins Parker and Miles.

Cousins!
Avery (4 years), Austin (3 months), Parker (4 years), and Miles (22 months)

OVER the photos.

Well, we tried.

For Thanksgiving, we spent the long weekend with Grandpa, Beggie and Non in Southport. (Does Avery look like a teenager in this photo, or what?!)

Avery taking care of Beggie's fish. She helped name him "Bubba" the Beta.

Jeff, Austin and Grandpa

Non, Avery, Austin and Beggie

Oh HEY, sweet boy!

Grieving + Giving

I don't know how to grieve. They say everyone handles grief differently, and I do believe that. But I've been doing this grief-thang for almost two years now, and I couldn't even tell you how I grieve. There really aren't adequate words to describe it. How do you simultaneously say "I am heartbroken" and yet "I have hope?" How do you stomp your feet and scream at the world while at the same time throwing your head back, taking a deep breath and peacefully basking in your thankfulness?

When I mention I lost a baby, most people assume my baby might have been born still. When they do, I suddenly want to tell them every detail... No! We met her, we had her.
Her name is Lucy.
She lived and breathed before our eyes. I still lost her, and the wounds of the heart are there in either experience, no matter if your baby arrived alive or still. But her life here on earth lasted 5 and a half days. I have to believe she was there that long too, you know. I have to talk to people who met her. Who knew us then. I have to remind myself that she was here. I have to remind myself that the nightmare of her diagnosis and death is true sometimes. That keeps me from going numb.

The hardest part of grieving for me seems to be handling the "moving on." As time goes by, you feel as though your emotions should get more secure, that you should be stronger. From my experience thus far I can say that though there may be a decrease in the frequency of painful emotions, the intensity is still so overwhelming at times.

Now when I see a friend or family member dealing with loss, I understand what they are going through  better than I would have before, yet I feel like I get angry. I feel sure that my loss should have been the end. That no one else I know should have to feel pain and the ache of a broken heart. I find myself asking - couldn't I just have taken the pain for them all?

I can't take the pain for them all. Jesus has already saved us. Thankfully I don't have to bear that burden.

Healing comes in helping others.
Healing comes in the realization that we are part of a bigger plan. Healing comes in washing off your pride and humbling yourself. I keep wanting God to bring me something BIG to do. But I also know that God sometimes brings you the little humble tasks to work on, because He is the only one who knows (and should know) the big picture.

This year, out of our desire to honor Lucy's life and our humble mission to help others, we will be doing the Lucy Love Project again! In honor of what would have been Lucy's 2nd birthday this month we will be accepting donations and raising money to give back to the Levine Children's Hospital Neonatal Intensive Care Nurseries. Just $5 will buy a blanket for a baby who needs it.

Help us support families that are dealing with babies that are sick or families that have lost their little ones and are grieving. Help us light a little candle in their lives and give them hope.

Here is the link to sign up and donate:
LUCY LOVE PROJECT

We thank you.

Ducks for Lucy 2013

Last month our family was excited to participate and raise money for the Hope Floats Duck Race. Our team, Ducks for Lucy, raised over $630 for Kindermourn. Thanks to those who gave and supported us in our fundraising effort. Unfortunately none of our team ducks "placed" in the end, but we had a little crew out to enjoy the beautiful day and witness the fun sight of the 20,000 ducks floating on down the "river" AKA manmade whitewater canal at the U.S. Whitewater Center.

Waiting for the ducks

There they are!

Me and A taking it all in

A and her amazing quacking duck whistle!

Our awesome friends who came out to be with us and enjoy the day!
(I love that Jackson is totally trying to swipe Ave's whistle)

The Hope Floats Duck Race has become a fun way to remember our sweet second daughter and will be a tradition of ours for years to come.