On the eve of your birthday, Dilly Bar...

(Disclaimer - I know, I am missing a certain birthday letter to a certain birthday girl who also celebrated this month. I have not been by a computer in between the two and now it seems silly to do both at the same time. I won't forget her - she won't let me!)

Sweet Delia-girl, you are about to turn 3 - I cannot believe how fast that crept up on me! It seems like overnight you went from being this goofy, giggly, wobbly toddler to a goofy, giggly BIG GIRL! Slow down already! 

You continue to be the family clown on most occasions - always making up some crazy joke (that honestly makes no sense) or silly song. Your facial expressions alone make anyone laugh. Your sense of style is also all your own. You've spent most of the summer in your underwear, but on days when you do get dressed, its always interesting to see what you choose. I learned long ago that there is no sense arguing with you about what to wear - I will pick my battles and I sense that you and I may have a few of those ahead, as you seem to be even more stubborn than me.

You are SO brave. You love to be in the water, under the water, jumping, swimming, etc. NO fear. This makes me fearful sometimes?! But I love it. You are such a fish. You ride around on your bike and trike like a terror as well - we have to run or send Josiah on his bike to keep up with you. You love all things fast and dangerous I think! And yet you love babies. You love to bounce your babies in your arms, to feed them and sing to them. You also give them time-outs. I wonder where you've learned that?! You can be so fierce and yet so gentle, I never know what to expect when you jump out of bed at the crack of dawn! 

You talk non-stop. Sometimes you get to talking so excitedly that you give yourself the hiccups. You tell the craziest stories - I wish I could keep up and write them all down. There are circuses and boats and sharks and elephants and babies and Jesus and loose teeth. Just so random! You have the wildest imagination. You turn these funny thoughts into songs on many occasions and most of the time turn it into a song about Christmas. It amazes me that you can come up with all of this stuff and so many words at 3 - when you had just barely started talking before you turned 2! You love big words though - and it cracks me up. Some words you say perfectly well, and others you still say a bit silly - but I don't correct you because I kind of prefer it your way. We have had okey-meal in our house instead of oatmeal since Josiah was one - so I will let you have it that way. And now you like "glish-rish" (licorice). I don't know how you can say words like "delectable" and "ecstatic" and not "licorice", but this one makes me chuckle every time, so I'm leaving it alone. Sometimes its okay to just walk to the beat of your own drum.


Next week you start preschool. I'm just not sure if the world is ready for that, Dilly girl! You are beyond thrilled about it though - to finally be able to go to school like your brother and sister. And while I am feeling a wee bit sad or nostalgic maybe that my baby is off to school, I think I am worried about you the least. You are confident and brave and so sure of yourself. You love to be surrounded by friends but you don't let them sway you. (hold onto these traits in junior high, okay?!)

Delia Grace, you were most definitely a surprise for us - but you have brought SO much joy and laughter to this family. I cannot imagine our family without you in it. I can see in these little character traits that are forming that God is going to do mighty things in you and through you. You have such a loud voice to use for Him! And I know you already sing about Jesus all the time - just wait until those songs are coherent! :) May your daringness and confidence take you to some amazing places and may your persuasive nature will lead many to Christ. And of course, my sweet baby, you always have a place here with arms waiting for you in the moments when you might not feel so brave. That is okay too. One day you will learn that it is okay to slow down once in a while and that naps are a good thing. Until then, I will try to keep up with you.
mama

Heaven is the face of my little girl...

This song haunts me, which seems all the more fitting when I am stuck wide awake on this day of all days.

"Heaven is the face of a little girl

with dark brown eyes

that disappear when she smiles"

Four years ago today, the unthinkable happened - one of my "perfect" little girls' hearts stopped beating. It is such an odd thing to think back on and try to process through the events of the day. I was a huge pregnant lady, lounging on the beach at my parents' house, enjoying just one last weekend away before my doctors would put me on travel restrictions. Ah, the irony. I started bleeding a little bit, but that had been happening ALL THE TIME during this pregnancy (and the last), so no big deal. I laid down for a bit and told everyone to calm down - like I'm an old pro.

It didn't go away, and even though it was just a little, Steve and I decided that we were going to go in. To Rochester. Because, I'm sorry local friends, but I had no confidence in the hospital here, and at the time it made perfect sense to me to drive 4.5 hours to get checked. We  left our kids at the lake and drove off like it was nothing. Except that by the time we got to town (10 miles), there was blood everywhere. EVEN THEN, I made him call my doctor first before taking me in to the local ER. I am just bullheaded. I called my mom and told her I was going in, and I called my sister and asked them to meet us there. 

The nurses brought us up to the OB floor and there was no hurry. I think they heard "22/3" and they figured there was nothing worth rushing around for either way. I put on a gown and got a monitor on and she laid me down to check for heart beats. She found one right away. Tears of sweet relief. She only found one and seemed to announce it matter-of-factly (though this could be the way my mind took it in). I went numb at that point. She brought in someone else. And then the doctor. And then the fight began. I fought with this man for quite some time because he did not believe I had a second uterus. This was not the time to be telling me that you know anything about my anatomy having just walked in the door. And don't argue with me. 

They all left and I was just numb, and crabby and in a state of shock I think. I made a comment about not needing a mini-van. I will never forget saying that. I was trying so hard to not have this be reality. Everyone was crying but I went into protection mode. I needed to not stress out this other babe. I was not going to lose two. And at this point, I honestly believed that this doctor who couldn't see my anatomy correctly was wrong. I would get to my own doctor and they would find the heartbeat. It was just quiet or something.

Then they told me they were going to hold me in this hospital until a point of viability (which for this hospital meant 25 weeks). NO WAY. I told them to call my doctor right away. Again this doctor argued with me and said that nobody would transfer me in my current state and that I needed to stay until at least 25 weeks. CALL. So he left. And he called. And walked back in and guess what? They were sending a helicopter immediately. 

This turned into a little jet in the end, which was fine by me. This team plus lovely guys from the local ambulance service came and loaded me up and hauled Steve and I over as my family rushed to Rochester to meet us there. This was an amazing team of flight nurses and I found them after the fact and thanked them. Later I would also learn that the local paramedic was on his first shift back after losing his young son. The flight was crazy - hooked up to all kinds of monitors, laying down flat in a jet - but uneventful and all bleeding had stopped by this point and I was confident that we were going to be rejoicing as soon as I was in a familiar place.

That never happened. There WAS only one heartbeat. I had just been in three days prior and saw both girls bouncing around happily on the ultrasound screen. No warning. No explanation. Just gone. Nobody could explain that to me and it was beyond frustrating. This baby was healthy - give me something! 

I think it was even worse because they decided not to deliver her at that point. They had several discussions about this with the Maternal Fetal Medicine team and were debating about whether or not to deliver just Hannah and then sew everything up and hope Eden would stay put and infection free for some time longer - or to let things run their course and hope for the best. Carrying a baby that was no longer alive was dreadful. Except that I allowed myself to believe that she was somehow going to be the biggest miracle you ever did see! And I had my brain all wrapped around that plan. Only that wasn't God's plan, and he and I fought that out for quite awhile afterwards. 

I struggled for a LONG time with guilt - if I had been home that day, in Rochester, they could have saved her. They would have done something. They deal with crazy early babies. Who knows if it would have played out that way, but I was so confident in that….

"Heaven is the sound of her breathing deep

Lying on my chest, falling fast asleep while I sing

And Heaven is the weight of her in my arms

Being there to keep her safe from harm while she dreams"

My kids talk about Hannah all the time lately it seems. They ask about her, about why she died, where she is, what she is doing. They talk about how she was in my belly with Eden. And I am so glad that they talk about her - only sometimes I'm not. Sometimes its hard to be constantly confronted with the questions you haven't yet figured out or are still wrestling out with God yourself. In the end, its great and I'm truly glad she will never be forgotten this side of Heaven. But oh, my mama heart does flip-flops when it comes up at dinner conversations.

"Heaven is the sweet maple syrup kiss

and all of the other things I miss with her gone"

My sweet girls will be four this month. I cannot believe that much time has passed when I can relive that day so freshly in my mind - and yet it seems like forever ago. I tend to find distracting things to do on the first of August. We don't "observe" the day - we celebrate the girls on their birthday, and I've never really figured that should change even though there are technicalities that could be debated. I might dye my hair pink or something today. The pain of losing a child- it doesn't go away. That dreadful day is stuck with me. The questions come less frequently, but now and then God and I still talk that out. I know that one day there will be a sweet reunion. I know that she is healthy and whole and praising Him and I am grateful for that. I trust that there are reasons that I don't understand. But living on this side of it still stinks.