Sneaking up on me

The grief started sneaking up on me again. I think I can go a couple days without crying at somepoint during the day. My thoughts can be consumed with Ainslee, but I think I crash so hard from grief that it then allows me a couple days to "recover" and live life. Yesterday I was out with our team doing a team building event and being away from Adrian brought on more anxiety. I feel better if he's with Travis, but I still have a heightened amount of anxiety if I can't physically watch him breath and know what he is doing every moment. We went to a rodeo and as we were sitting there, laughing about various things that only a rodeo would bring on, I found myself slipping into thoughts of Adrian and Ainslee. I tried to imagine what my life would be like if I had lost Adrian instead of Ainslee. I couldn't even begin to wrap my head around that. I thought of Adrian and what a little person he is. He's full of life, laughter, love. It got me to thinking about what Ainslee would be like right now. Who would she look like? What would she be like? Thinking of what could of been really made my head swim. There's the natural grief that is associated with losing a child. But then there is the grief that comes with what they would or should be doing. There's the grief associated with not just missing out on her, but missing out on her husband. Missing out her extended family. Missing out on my sweet grandchildren. I feel like I'm grieving things that were never going to be.

Tomorrow marks us being 3 weeks away from her 1 year birthday in Heaven. Surely they must have a huge party for you in Heaven when you get there and it must be a celebration each year you are there. I can't imagine her having already spent a year with Jesus, living in His presence, following His word, and praying for her family. What a big girl we have up there.

11 months and 1 week since we had to say goodbye. What is grief like 11 months and one week out? The grief is still very much present, as I'm sure it always will be. The grief is like a tornado, you never know when it will stir up all the memories, the pain, the feelings, to form a horrible storm that takes over your soul. I feel blessed when I get a day or two of  "cry-free" days. Those days aren't as exhausting. There are still more days where I cry and get emotionally overwhelmed and drained. I still revert back to the day everything happened, the words I heard in the ER (atropine/eponephrine/chest compressions/changing of tubes/time of death), the last time I held her, what she looked like, what she felt like, the chaplan, the first time the chaplan brought her out all dressed in her Valentine's Day outfit, how it felt to hold her in her coffin, how it felt as each scoop of dirt hit the top of her coffin, throwing the last flower in on top of her coffin, and returning to a house without her. There are brief moments where I can smile though at her picture, or her videos, or the thought of how wonderful of a baby girl she is. But often the pain of missing her is still far too overwhelming. I see small progressions, although they mostly never seem like enough.

February 8th will be here before I know it, we're only 3 weeks out. I took the day off work and Travis will be home with Adrian and I. I tried to think of what I wanted to do that day, how I wanted to remember her, and a way to not get too consumed with sadness but I'm not sure what I'd like to do. It may be an Ainslee Day where we do something fun as a family to honor her. We may release more balloons so she has balloons in heaven to celebrate her being there a year. Nothing ever seems right, nothing ever seems enough for her.

I started having feelings of sadness as I reflected on what I was doing this time last year. I remember I had bought Ainslee's Valentine outfit to wear to daycare. I was going to make home made Valentine's for Adrian and Ainslee to take to daycare (our at home provider). I had them drawn out and thought they were going to be perfect for the kids. I found my drawings of them, I remember the thoughts I was having at the time of my sweet 3 month olds first Valentine's Day party-one she never got to see. When she passed away, I had to decide what to put my baby in. I didn't want it to be something that wasn't comfy, I wanted her to be comfortable and snuggly. I decided to put her in her Valentine's Day outfit. It had a matching bib and I kept the bib. I feel like we're brought together because of that. She has on her outfit, and I have a part of it to keep. I am ready to get past her heavenly birthday and Valentine's Day. I'm fearful as I plan for Adrian's Valentine's Day party at his school, that we're going to be faced with the same tragedy this year in losing him somehow. It makes me apprehensive to plan for his party and to plan his Valentine's treats and cards. I just keep praying it won't happen again, we won't lose another child, we'll get to keep the rest of what we have.

A friend sent told me she thought of us today as she heard "Who You'd Be Today" by Kenny Chesney. It summed up what I've been feeling:

Sunny days seem to hurt the most.
I wear the pain like a heavy coat.
I feel you everywhere I go.
I see your smile, I see your face,
I hear you laughin' in the rain.
I still can't believe you're gone.

It ain't fair: you died too young,
Like the story that had just begun,
But death tore the pages all away.
God knows how I miss you,
All the hell that I've been through,
Just knowin' no-one could take your place.
An' sometimes I wonder,
Who'd you be today?

Would you see the world? Would you chase your dreams?
Settle down with a family,
I wonder what would you name your babies?
Some days the sky's so blue,
I feel like I can talk to you,
An' I know it might sound crazy.


Please pray for us.

Always,
Channan