Mothering Caroline Grace

learning how to be the mom of an angel


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Turkeys and Shoppers

Today is the biggest shopping day of the year, which means that my husband is hard at work.  I am instead at home, sitting at my computer with the heated throw that my husband got me (I’m always cold) and sipping on some hot tea.  I have homework to do that I’d like to get done before he gets home, but first I will write.

Thanksgiving was a hard day, even though on the surface it was a lovely day.  We slept in, ate a big breakfast, took a nap together, went out for dinner, and then watched football before going to bed early.  It was a bittersweet day that I did enjoy but went to bed sad, wishing I had needed a high chair at dinner and could have dressed Caroline in a turkey outfit.  Instead, we decorated a small Christmas tree for Caroline and put all of her ornaments on it.  There is a void in my heart that cannot be filled by anyone but her.

Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays and this is the first time it has been both happy and sad.  That is the reality of being a bereaved parent – you are always a little happy and a little (or a lot) sad.  The two emotions coexist in a way that was never possible before.

I am so thankful for my daughter.  She has taught me so much and led the most meaningful life.  She helped me to believe in miracles again and inspired so many wonderful things.  She made me a mom and for that I am forever grateful.  I love her so much, always and forever.

I am also thankful for my husband, who has been my rock of support through the best and worst year of our lives.  If not for him, I surely would have quit my program and abandoned my life here.  He is my shoulder to cry on and my inspiration to keep moving forward.

Yesterday, me and the husband were talking about long lines for store openings.  I have never been one to go out shopping on Black Friday – I hate crowds and long lines.  However, I thought that there was one person I would have braved the crowds for – Caroline.  Or another child someday.  If there was some toy that my child wanted for Christmas, and the only way I could afford it was to go out on Black Friday, I would do it.  Being a mom drives you to do things you never would otherwise, because you love your children so much and would do anything for them.  If I could have died for Caroline so that she would have the chance to live a long life, I would have in a heartbeat.  However, I was not given that option.  For some reason, God wants me to stay here while my baby is in heaven.

All I can do now is try to keep moving forward, making Caroline proud when I can.  I anxiously await the day when we are reunited and the void in my heart is once again filled.


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Miracles

My daughter is such a miracle.  She had such an impact on the world in her short time here, but she also taught me and my husband so much about love and miracles.

When we found out about her diagnosis, it was crushing.  We cried for days, mourning the life we dreamed of living with her.  We named her Caroline and decided that we would make every memory with her that we could during the rest of my pregnancy, and we did.  I started a journal and made notes about doctor’s appointments as well as what was going on in our lives and how I was feeling, emotionally and physically.  We bought the essentials that we needed for the hospital, packed our bags, and waited as we approached full term.

Doctors prepared us for the worst.  First we didn’t know if she would make it to term.  Then we didn’t know if she would be stillborn.  Then we didn’t know if we’d have minutes, hours, or days with our daughter.  It seemed that the most likely scenario was to go home from the hospital without her.

We prayed to have some time with Caroline to show her that we love her, and that she would not suffer.  I never prayed for her to be healed.  I can’t say exactly why I never did.  Perhaps because of my faith in medicine and her doctors.  Even more so, perhaps because she was perfect the way she was.  I couldn’t ask any more of her than to be the beautiful person she was meant to be.

It was a miracle that Caroline was born alive.  Her OB cried along beside us, as she didn’t even need any resuscitation.  Having minutes with her was another miracle.  Having hours with her was yet another miracle.  Taking her home from the hospital was another miracle.  Having the time at home to care for her and love her and meet more of her family was another miracle.  Having both of her parents holding her tight while she passed from this world to the next was another miracle.

Caroline had a special message to send to the world.  She showed us that life is precious and delicate and should never be taken for granted.  She also showed us the beautiful strength she was given to survive well beyond the time predicted with her diagnosis.  She made us parents, and showed us the meaning of unconditional love.  When my husband first brought Caroline to me after she was born, I remember looking at those big, bright eyes and being amazed by the miracle in my arms.  What a miracle it was to be her mother.

Every baby is a miracle.  Every baby is here for a purpose, and every baby matters, even if the only life they knew was that in their mother’s womb.  Being Caroline’s mom has been the most difficult experience of my life, but more importantly, the greatest joy I have ever known.