...and then the world comes crashing down.

Before I even begin, let me just say: if you tend to shy away when it comes to the subject of death, don't read any further. Better yet, if you don't know where to put the emotions that a babies death brings to surface, you probably want to click that "x" at the top right corner now.


This post is full of nothing but raw, nasty emotions. If you are to faint at heart, turn back now.

It's midnight. I should be sleeping. I have to be up at 6:45 and at work by 8:00. But you want to know what I have just finished doing??

Completely (in every sense of the word) losing it. For the last *almost* two hours. Do you know how long it's been since I had a full out melt down? Where I just cried, sobbed...shook with grief? Let's just say it's been a long time.

I have one thing to say: Leave it to the Lifetime Network. >.< Yeah yeah, I know...why in the world am I watching Lifetime movies while Clif is at work? Once you get past the horrible acting, some of the movies aren't completely horrible.

Anyways...I was watching one tonight, I don't even remember what it was called. And at the end of the movie the mother hugs her teenage daughter and tells her that she is proud of her.
That last line hit me like a ton of bricks. Instant tears sprung to my eyes, and my heart began to beat out of my chest. I will never have the chance to tell my daughter I am proud of her. In fact...there are a lot of things that I will never be able to tell her. Or to watch her do.

I never heard her cry. I never even got to see her take a breath. I'll go the rest of my life not even knowing what color my daughters eyes are. I wonder if her hair would have turned blond like mine did when I was a baby? Who would she have looked like when she got older?

Not only am I finishing up one of the biggest pity parties I've had in a long time, I just finished watching Lilly's funeral for the first time.

There were so many things that I don't even remember from that day. Everything was a blur.
I went through everything tonight. I sat in the floor, with everything she ever touched in a 12x18 box. I saw her hair, her hospital clothes...her hand & foot prints. Her hospital ID bracelet. Have I ever said here that she was "born" at 10:49am?

The guest book is among the things that I've never looked at, until tonight. Do you know how unbelievably difficult it is to read that your child was born and died the same day?

I really lost it while reading through the list of guests. There was one that I don't recall seeing at the funeral that day. His name is "J"...I used to call him Granddaddy. He is the grandfather of my ex. Oh how I loved this man (the grandfather that is! :) It killed me when we cut ties when "D" and I broke up. But *almost* a year later, it meant the world to me to know that he was there.

Her funeral. It was beautiful...and long. :) Clif and I are known for long services of any time. Our wedding ceremony was almost an hour and a half long. Lilly's funeral. 54 minutes.

I watched as we (the family) were brought in. I saw (again) the faces of all our heartbroken family members. The dazed look. I watched as the funeral directors shot me glances of pity.
So many things came rushing back to me as I watched the DVD tonight. Gina, the one that prepared Lilly's tiny body. What a precious woman! Lilly was her first infant...and she was so kind and considerate. She made a special trip out to buy Johnson & Johnson lotion, just so Lilly would smell like a baby. I don't think that anyone will ever know how much that meant to me.

I'm sure I've written this before - but there was probably right at five hundred people that came to Lilly's funeral. When Clif and I were brought into the sanctuary the whole building was full. There were actually people STANDING in the back. How amazing that a precious little girl who never breathed a breath on earth could be loved and cared for as much as Lilly.

After we were seated, "Glory Baby" was played. I wish I could have seen people's faces while the song played. I know that several people asked where in the world I had found such a fitting song.

Next, my dad spoke. How brave. I know if I had been in his position, I wouldn't have been able to stand in front of those people and keep it all together. After dad finished up, a pastor friend of ours "F" sang two songs. One I don't know the name of, and the second was "Jesus Loves Me". He sang acapella. The first and second verse by himself, and the chorus he asked the congregation to join in.

I can't tell you how moving it was to hear a room full of people singing Jesus loves me...

Watching the video reminded me of how blessed Clif and I truly are. It reminded me of the love that surrounded us during those tough days.
Those days are still here...and I don't think that a lot of people see that. They don't recognize that we are still very much in pain. That we still think of her every second of every day. That on top of losing her, and mourning her death - we are also facing infertility. People are oblivious to our pain. And I don't blame them. I myself am guilty of looking in the other direction with things get tough. I'd rather it be awkward than to actually have to face the music.

As I type these words, left over tears stream down my face. I'm sitting at home, alone,in bed, at twelve thirty in the morning, eyes swollen, hair a mess, nose running...wrapped in the blanket my dead daughter was wrapped in the first time I saw her. And the last.

Tonight, more that usual, I am grasping for the few things that are left of her. Anything that she may have touched...one of which I'll always have with me, my heart.

I'm missing you tonight little girl, more than I have in a long time...