Mothering Caroline Grace

learning how to be the mom of an angel


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Memory Monday

I am so grateful for every picture that we have of our dear daughter.  We had professional pictures taken immediately after Caroline was born and the day before she died.  I am ever grateful for those precious memories frozen in time and the photographers who stood by our side.

I placed something in Caroline’s hospital bag that I didn’t know if I would use.  A week or two before her due date, I had the idea to get a chalkboard and decorate it with her name and pink baby stickers.  The idea was to update the chalkboard with how old she was and to take pictures of her with it.  It would give us a way to look back and know how old she was each day.  We knew of the strong possibility of not getting a chance to take chalkboard pictures, but we hoped and prayed for some time with our little girl.

We were so thrilled to be given time together!  In the hospital, we started by taking pictures of us, Caroline, and her chalkboard every few hours.  Soon, she had survived her first day, and the chalkboard proudly read, “I made it through my first day!”  Every day from then on, we took a chalkboard picture.  “Caroline is 5 days old!”  “Caroline is 1 week old!” “Caroline is 22 days old!”  “Caroline is an 8 week old inspiration!” “Caroline is 58 days old!”  Each day, her chalkboard age declaration ended in an exclamation point, because we were thrilled to be witnessing the miracle before our eyes.  Every day, minute, and second was such a gift.

We always waited to do Caroline’s daily chalkboard picture until we had a visitor or when Caroline was most alert.  In the progression of pictures, she gets more alert the older she gets.  It was amazing to see her grow and interact with her world.  We made a collage of all of the chalkboard pictures, and it shows how loved she was and still is.  Every person who was able to visit was thrilled to be in the chalkboard picture, and the collage reminds me how loved Caroline is by so many people.

Love you forever and ever, Miss Caroline.

 

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Silence

I never knew silence could be so loud.

I walk in the door and the absence of sound is deafening.  For two months, our family shared in the joys and frustrations of caring for an infant.  There was always something to do; she needed to be fed, or rocked, or bounced, or held tight.  We were sleep deprived and loving every minute of it.  We took a picture of Caroline with a chalkboard every day, documenting how many days old she was.  Now the chalkboard is in a closet somewhere and there are no more updates.  We were blessed to spend 58 days with her, but of course it is never enough.  Why did our sweet child have to go so soon?

Now, the only thing that we can do at home is go online or watch TV.  The familiar baby sounds are gone and we are bored and empty.

I miss our family unit of 3.

I miss my sweet Caroline.