tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66180430277771261732024-03-05T20:08:00.125-06:00All That Love Can DoA resource for families who are carrying to term despite a fatal diagnosis.RaeAnne Fredricksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01407539790552958900noreply@blogger.comBlogger264125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6618043027777126173.post-3382272850466028502016-09-29T23:28:00.001-05:002016-09-29T23:28:29.908-05:00I Can't Even Imagine<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">by <a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/search/label/Kellie%20Soper" target="_blank">Kellie Soper</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>"I can't even imagine..."</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I've heard this hundreds of times from people. Before Lily's diagnosis, I even muttered these words myself. These words are often following an <i>I'm sorry</i> with a sympathetic head tilt. Maybe it's because there's usually a silent void following an <i>I'm sorry </i>because<i> </i>I don't always know how to respond. I can't reply "it's okay" because <i>it's</i> <i>not okay</i>. And <i>"</i>thank you<i>"</i> just sounds weird. So there's this weird silence after <i>I'm sorry </i>and I've learned it's often followed by an "I can't even imagine." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>*Let it be known - it's okay to just say "I'm sorry" and sit in the silence with someone.*</i> </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I have heard this from everyone - from strangers, close friends, even family. I have heard it so often it makes me cringe and it makes me retreat further and further away from people. It has turned close friends into acquaintances.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I get it. I really do. I used to be one of those people who had no idea what to say. I used to be one of those people on the other side feeling so much sympathy for someone who lost their child, but at the same time<i> thanking God that it wasn't</i><i> me</i>. Thanking God that <i>"I couldn't even imagine" because it was not my broken heart but someone else's.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But to be honest, it puts up a road block between you and me. Because the truth is, if you can't imagine what it's like to walk in my shoes, you can no longer truly know who I am. I'm not the person I once was and I will never be that person again. I am a grieving mom who is <b><i>living the unimagina</i></b><b><i>ble</i></b>. So if you can't allow yourself to be vulnerable enough to "imagine my pain", then we must sever our ties and go our separate ways.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I remember vividly when I was so tired of hearing <i>"I can't even imagine"</i>. I was actually still pregnant with Lily. She was so strong and I could feel her moving <i>constantly</i>. Someone said the obligatory <i>I'm sorry</i> and then the awkward silence led to "<i>I can</i><i>'t even imagine what this must be like</i>!" I wanted to scream,<i> "Yes you can! You have kids! You CAN imagine!"</i> But instead, as Lily kicked me in my rib, all I could muster through my tears and wavering voice was, <i>"Me either. I can't imagine this either</i><i>."</i> It was true. It didn't matter how many times a doctor explained the diagnosis. It didn't matter what the likely outcome was going to be. It didn't matter what I had read or googled because in that moment, <i>I couldn't imagine my life without her either</i>. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Becau</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">se the truth is,</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><i style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">especially if you have children of your own,</i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><b style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">you can imagine my pain</b><i style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">. </i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">can look into the eyes of your child/ren and imagine them being taken from you. In that moment, you can put yourself in my sho</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">es. You can imagine never se</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">eing their beautiful eyes o</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">pen. You can imagine missing</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">e</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">very</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">. S</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">ingle</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">. M</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">iles</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">tone. You can i</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">magine the hole in your heart from grieving your child.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And m</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">ost likely, the tears will begin to sting and you will need to catch your breath. It will feel like a gian</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">t boulder has been placed on your chest</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">. Y</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">ou</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">w</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">on't have the strength or even the desire to move it. It will make you rethink gossiping with anyone about</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"</span><i style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">how long it's been</i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">or</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"</span><i style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">shouldn't she be better now?"</i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You may rethink wonder</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">ing</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">wh</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">y I'm not handling my grief as well as</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">you may like me to</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Because even though you can't seem to imagine</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">it,</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><i style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">the truth is you can. </i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i><b>I still find myself uttering these words..."I can't believe she's gone. I can't believe I have to trudge through the rest of this life without her." Because honestly, I still can't imagine it and I have been living this unimaginable life for nearly two years.</b></i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghCHimEe8PqcTs8N0RR-Dr3w9dW_150uA4-dKktfSMep4Y9ueYMOae2ZNg3hpN9BiNFHxFory2ARC531XcIUNEVrbFkQLhut8MMhYavm93Ttj5kiVjEfLdSWZMcKFESMvc9JoyG8Uclkg/s1600/Kellie_Bio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #e8929d; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghCHimEe8PqcTs8N0RR-Dr3w9dW_150uA4-dKktfSMep4Y9ueYMOae2ZNg3hpN9BiNFHxFory2ARC531XcIUNEVrbFkQLhut8MMhYavm93Ttj5kiVjEfLdSWZMcKFESMvc9JoyG8Uclkg/s200/Kellie_Bio.jpg" style="border: 0px dotted rgb(59, 19, 16);" width="200" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #6b6b6b; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: 13.696px; line-height: 23.92px;"><i><b></b></i></span><br style="color: #6b6b6b; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13.696px; line-height: 23.92px;" /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><span data-reactid=".1u.1.0.0.0.0.1:$mid=11426008564971=20ad92e85701a920d63.0.$1.0.$right.0.0.1.0.$text0:0:$4:0" style="color: #141823; line-height: 18px;"><b><a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/search/label/Kellie%20Soper" style="color: #e8929d; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Kellie Soper </a></b>lives in Arizona and is wife to her amazing husband, Jason. Together they have three beautiful children, one on earth and two sweet, perfect souls in Heaven. Ted is a wild, silly, and rambunctious toddler. Their sweet Lily Frances was born sleeping on November 12, 2014. They learned at their 18 week ultrasound that Lily had a fatal neural tubal defect the doctors said was "incompatible with life." Kellie and Jason both knew Lily was not a "decision", but their precious daughter and they believe her life was of value, no matter what. She carried Lily with love for 42 weeks and 2 days. They miss her every single day, but are grateful for the honor and privilege of being her parents. Their youngest daughter is Clare Therese. She met her big sister in heaven after a few precious months on earth with her family. Y</span><span data-reactid=".1u.1.0.0.0.0.1:$mid=11426008564971=20ad92e85701a920d63.0.$1.0.$right.0.0.1.0.$text0:0:$4:0" style="color: #141823; line-height: 18px;">ou can read more about their family on Kellie's blog, </span><a data-reactid=".1u.1.0.0.0.0.1:$mid=11426008564971=20ad92e85701a920d63.0.$1.0.$right.0.0.1.0.$range0:0" href="http://www.ladysoper.blogspot.com/" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Life and Love</a><span data-reactid=".1u.1.0.0.0.0.1:$mid=11426008564971=20ad92e85701a920d63.0.$1.0.$right.0.0.1.0.$end:0:$0:0" style="color: #141823; line-height: 18px;">.</span></span></div>
RaeAnne Fredricksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01407539790552958900noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6618043027777126173.post-23602714635408158082016-07-15T06:58:00.002-05:002016-07-15T06:58:33.309-05:00What Ifs and If Onlys<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">by <a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/search/label/Alex%20Hopper" target="_blank">Alex Hopper</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It’s beyond hard not to think about the “What ifs” and “If onlys” after a devastating loss. It may not be the healthiest thing to think about but I think sometimes we just need to let our minds “go there” for a few moments. I think it is better to bring the thoughts to light instead of letting them fester in the dark. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So here are some of mine:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">What if we had tried to start a family sooner? What if it had happened easily for us like it seems to happen for everyone else? What if the pregnancy had been completely normal? What if that ultrasound didn’t show that something was wrong? What if there was no such thing as LUTO? What if the procedure (that was your only chance) had worked like it is supposed to? What if my water didn’t break at 18 weeks? What if we never heard the terms “fatal fetal diagnosis”, or “incompatible with life”? What if your lungs had developed correctly, despite there being no fluid? What if the steroid injections and bed rest had helped? What if the neonatologist said that intervention <i>would </i>help? What if there was something (<i>anything</i>) that would have helped? What if you had lived?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">If only you had lived. If only you had the chance to go to the NICU. If only you could have come home after a long hospital stay (months after birth is infinitely better than never at all). If only we didn’t have to bury our first and only child. If only people could “understand” without having lost a child themselves. If only people didn’t expect a bereaved parent to be back to “normal” after a week. If only there was more compassion and less judgment. If only the rest of the world would grieve along with you. If only others were sensitive to your pain, in spite of their own joy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And the list could go on forever….. If you’ve lost a child or someone you dearly love I am sure you could write your own list of infinite <i>what ifs or if onlys </i>- and maybe you should. Write them out or type them up. Then delete the file, or shred it, or burn it…or post it to your blog or share it with a friend (whatever is more healing for you). Show it to everyone or show it to no one. Allow yourself to feel it all and when you’re done give yourself permission to let it go. You will never let go of your love or your grief over whom and what you’ve lost or the memories, but you can let go of the impossible thoughts that only hurt your heart. Instead of thinking about those by-gone what-ifs, try to wonder. Open your mind to wonder who your child would have been and who they would want you to be. There will be pain in the wondering as well, but it is a pain mixed with the joy of your child’s life- no matter how brief. Wonder at the love that makes all the pain worth it, because it is a wonderful love.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #6b6b6b; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px; text-align: left;"><strong style="font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;">Alex Hopper</strong><span style="font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;"> is a writer in </span><st1:state style="font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;" w:st="on">North Carolina</st1:state><span style="font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;">. She is married to her beloved, </span><st1:city style="font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;" w:st="on">Trent</st1:city><span style="font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;">, and mommy to her angel, Cyrus. Cyrus was diagnosis with a fatal birth defect in the womb at 12 weeks. He was carried with love until he was born at 33 weeks on November 25, 2013. He lived for 1 hour and 9 minutes. His life was short, but his legacy lives on.</span></span></span></div>
<br />RaeAnne Fredricksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01407539790552958900noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6618043027777126173.post-39475682991236618072016-06-26T04:10:00.001-05:002016-06-26T04:15:05.594-05:00Happy Birthday, Eden Olivia<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">by <a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/search/label/Megan%20Coker" target="_blank">Megan Coker</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So much can happen in a year.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It seems like such a short time ago that you were born into our arms and breathed so deeply, curled your hand around my finger, and left us while lying in your Daddy’s arms. I realize now that carrying you to birth meant switching the weight of making every memory possible with you to the weight of the grief that is making memories that are missing you. And while grief makes the day seem long, it feels like the whole last year has been a blur. How did we get here?</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjxEdy5J3cJhUoVPnlzy6YLz6J1nHlRN7ubBCtpkA3WuhIYg3z4RnYn_ENk_pjkmtIkEI5MOgezphhYWULgS3vQjO8KQtlmDnijXUp8Cb09-OLJHNA1JfjRp87AzWnf2BLm4lvklI9phE/s1600/0ebebc44-9e40-483a-aebf-566493abea14.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="163" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjxEdy5J3cJhUoVPnlzy6YLz6J1nHlRN7ubBCtpkA3WuhIYg3z4RnYn_ENk_pjkmtIkEI5MOgezphhYWULgS3vQjO8KQtlmDnijXUp8Cb09-OLJHNA1JfjRp87AzWnf2BLm4lvklI9phE/s400/0ebebc44-9e40-483a-aebf-566493abea14.jpe" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You inspired me. To take the pictures and to write the words. To be a better friend and to defend myself. To be content with a quiet life and to step outside my comfort zone when it’s needed. To be a better wife to your daddy and to let him be a better husband to me. You are my daughter and you taught me more than I ever dreamt about all the things I wanted to teach you myself.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> I miss you, baby bird. It has been three months longer without you in my life than I carried you. How does a person love someone so much after such a brief time? Parenthood is the most instant type of love and I don’t know who I was before you came along. All I know is I’ll never be that person again. I miss you because you made me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">There’s a hole in my life today where you should be- corners of the living room that should house your toys and play yard, a wall in the pink bedroom in the house we moved to where your crib would have fit perfectly, silence where there should be cries and giggles, the empty grocery cart seat I have as I breeze pass every other mother in the world shopping at the exact moment I am, the high chair we don’t ask for when we go out for dinner, the ache in my arms as I wonder how to celebrate this type of first birthday. Your absence is everywhere.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But then, so is your presence. I find you even in the rare moments I’m not looking. Your scent still washes over me unexpectedly in places your body never went, and your face is the centerpiece of my sweetest dreams. I have never had so many friendly birds visit in my yard and I have never heard the name “Eden” in the company of strangers so much. Your body died but your spirit is still alive and even when I don’t notice, you’re there. I wish you could physically hug me and I could see you with my eyes, but I am learning to lean less on the physical proof that you were here and focus on the spiritual proof that you are. I’m thankful for the promise that one day those different types of proof will be one and the same. I’ll hold you again and tell you all the times I just knew it was you, my love.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh89lDKOcjVAXoYrdrQ6dh73GdG8d3CDtJL4Ku4Roy3d_YFDTyYQckkUXuT74XBE6B4PtiZusAr9u_tYDKZbpSyefrFspc9zzcBjFq06kSHsiEUcNlHFxi1ojwIhlrbAzVvHQOerXQ6LEc/s1600/43621b98-f953-413f-95df-afd525390347.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh89lDKOcjVAXoYrdrQ6dh73GdG8d3CDtJL4Ku4Roy3d_YFDTyYQckkUXuT74XBE6B4PtiZusAr9u_tYDKZbpSyefrFspc9zzcBjFq06kSHsiEUcNlHFxi1ojwIhlrbAzVvHQOerXQ6LEc/s400/43621b98-f953-413f-95df-afd525390347.jpe" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I always thought that getting to this point would automatically make me equipped to say, “my baby died” and not cry so hard or have panic attacks. I thought one year would give me the time I needed to really know deep grief and then I could move out of the deep end and only wade occasionally. I thought that since it’s expected by everyone else that I act right after only a few months, surely a little more time would be all I need. But here I am one year later and it feels so much like I’m in the movie Groundhog Day. I don’t feel new or “better”. I knew that there is no getting better because I’m not sick, but I didn’t know that every day would just feel the same as it did a year ago. My anxious heart leading up to today felt the same as it did when I was preparing to deliver you. Have I made no progress in healing?</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbQhwNjonJNQWwTxHrTsq7JKEiKNF2XxLJqD2NlRWLoGWZu7xwSoaPrSZzC63dxS1beXFktfwaHzewv2P202IdkW_8xrwyXF2s0eopjjHnOLy6FgMnvZkB8q_5Vp4Gp9jEA9XvY2UvSh8/s1600/a534086d-ce69-426e-b037-ceedf84f34fe.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbQhwNjonJNQWwTxHrTsq7JKEiKNF2XxLJqD2NlRWLoGWZu7xwSoaPrSZzC63dxS1beXFktfwaHzewv2P202IdkW_8xrwyXF2s0eopjjHnOLy6FgMnvZkB8q_5Vp4Gp9jEA9XvY2UvSh8/s400/a534086d-ce69-426e-b037-ceedf84f34fe.jpe" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">That can’t be right, though. Where there was once a pretty bow wrapped around my writing, there is honesty and rawness. I feel more real about things I never wanted to know, let alone write about. And where family once meant blood, I know that family now means the people you choose. And man, this past year I’ve built up one hell of a family. I have been loved well by people who were once strangers and I have learned to love them well too. I learned what self-care is and I got some help for depression when it came to a point that I could not help myself. I know you’d be proud of me. I’m proud of me... But still, every morning I wake up wondering how in the world I’m going to breathe without you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">One year.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">An identity theft.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Two more babies- Errol and Mason.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Three severed relationships.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Four trips to the hospital to photograph your friends.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Five different medications until I found something to work.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Six months old the day after Christmas.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Seven new friends like sisters.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Eight holidays we should have dressed you up for.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Nine times Daddy and I couldn’t be together on your monthly birthday.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Ten times I had to figure out how to answer the question “any kids?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Eleven times, a full day of your candle being lit.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Twelve months, my little baby girl would have been a whole year old today.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFM7jQL7cz8pziGYAT97pjurld3QUiIMNrpFhyphenhyphenRP0pjrJ5W55xNfDSVzoow-0k9fLDWvwy6aCXSfUB-iz8QjBCAo257k-c8JxzE8f5GbN7y39uLmaw1ZQ9YWtAk7S_tZXcCmYN4cFXKOg/s1600/82d3a6e2-3224-49aa-adbb-faab1501cbb5.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFM7jQL7cz8pziGYAT97pjurld3QUiIMNrpFhyphenhyphenRP0pjrJ5W55xNfDSVzoow-0k9fLDWvwy6aCXSfUB-iz8QjBCAo257k-c8JxzE8f5GbN7y39uLmaw1ZQ9YWtAk7S_tZXcCmYN4cFXKOg/s400/82d3a6e2-3224-49aa-adbb-faab1501cbb5.jpe" width="265" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I’m not in the same place I was when you left. But I don’t feel any different either. My love for you has not faded or shifted or calmed. It is still fierce and it still burns- like a seat belt clip on my skin when we come back to the south to visit your grave. It runs through me like fire and it takes me breath away to say your name. I am still in love with being your Mama and I always will be so very grateful that you’re mine. I wish today were different and so I am mourning. But because I love you the same as I would if you were here, I am celebrating too.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I would trade every good thing to have you in my arms. There’s no doubt. But since I cannot, I am so thankful for every mercy we have in this life of grief so far. You have made us so proud- your story is one that people stop and listen to when we tell it. Your story is an opportunity to raise CDH awareness and share the gospel and point them to Jesus. You’re happy, healthy, and in Heaven. What more could a parent ask for when it comes to the well being of her child?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I love you, my sweet. I miss you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Xoxo, Mama</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">~ ~ ~</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">To celebrate Eden’s Birth and Glory Day today, we are asking friends to commit intentional acts of kindness for others in her name, leaving notes or cards telling others about her. She brought the best and most kind people into our lives and we’ll spend the rest of our time while we wait putting that love back into the world. We invite you to join us in this as well.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifCVBR9BvG4sZPCMdhZY6FjmkarWa6xhyphenhyphenWYcykgwYGYyIWi5G6-xC1f3t5865DrGs9_bk13kcg8WU9Nk5PMNFDHFDxxQndg1gfEA1oWa3dCZYqapVl6XedH-aHIAWfpH1Cpy9kwKSzpqM/s1600/0d8f04c7-211b-4aa8-9030-d9c2f7ce0efc.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifCVBR9BvG4sZPCMdhZY6FjmkarWa6xhyphenhyphenWYcykgwYGYyIWi5G6-xC1f3t5865DrGs9_bk13kcg8WU9Nk5PMNFDHFDxxQndg1gfEA1oWa3dCZYqapVl6XedH-aHIAWfpH1Cpy9kwKSzpqM/s400/0d8f04c7-211b-4aa8-9030-d9c2f7ce0efc.jpe" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">~ ~ ~</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdAXS5Q8VReoVaq6CyYc0LyZUcb-FOaoQclxrIUaIKZVUUr-mL7-T7ilcC72pbZ09iTiiMa-31-_n84Kpl28R6B2sYJaCsOT_XnH2jC9PDbVSiOOs1QWdAu8oitpw0HxQw2EH8lMeQg1s/s1600/Megan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #e8929d; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdAXS5Q8VReoVaq6CyYc0LyZUcb-FOaoQclxrIUaIKZVUUr-mL7-T7ilcC72pbZ09iTiiMa-31-_n84Kpl28R6B2sYJaCsOT_XnH2jC9PDbVSiOOs1QWdAu8oitpw0HxQw2EH8lMeQg1s/s200/Megan.jpg" style="border: 0px dotted rgb(59, 19, 16);" width="155" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b style="color: #222222; line-height: 23.92px;"><a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/search/label/Megan%20Coker" target="_blank">Megan Coker</a></b><span style="color: #222222; line-height: 23.92px;"> carried Eden Olivia to birth in June 2015 after receiving a diagnosis of a severe Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia in the Bilateral form. Eden lived for 40 minutes. Megan is Ryan’s wife and together they follow his Army career. She has found a way to honor Eden’s short life in capturing the beautiful moments of others through starting her photography business, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/EdensGardenImages/" target="_blank">Eden’s Garden Images</a>. Each day has its new challenges for both Megan and Ryan but they are learning to lean on each other through it and work steadily on strengthening their marriage. Megan finds healing through writing about Eden and remembering their beautiful time together.</span></span></div>
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RaeAnne Fredricksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01407539790552958900noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6618043027777126173.post-70209773146777381242016-06-19T00:00:00.000-05:002016-06-19T00:00:07.289-05:00Father's Day<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">by <a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/search/label/Kellie%20Soper" target="_blank">Kellie Soper </a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The most memorable part of my wedding day was the moment I walked up the aisle towards my soon-to-be husband. I had been anxious all morning, but seconds before I walked down the aisle I was filled to the brim with peace. I took my dad's arm and he kissed my cheek. We walked down the aisle to one of my favorite songs. As we got closer to Jason, I noticed he had a huge smile and tears streaming down his face. <i>It was the first time I ever saw him cry.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We planned and planned for months, but nothing prepared me for that moment. Nothing prepared me to see the emotion of that day on his face. In that moment, and so many that have followed, I continue to learn how sensitive and sweet he truly is. And almost four and a half years later, one child here and two in Heaven, it was very telling of the journey we were about to embark upon.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I saw that smile with tears streaming down his cheeks again when our son was born. And just over <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_434170835" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; position: relative; top: -2px; z-index: 0;" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ" style="position: relative; top: 2px; z-index: -1;">two years later</span></span> I saw him cry again.<i>Only this time there was no smile.</i> This time, with a sick and somber face he asked the question I was too scared to, "<i>Is there something wrong with our baby?</i>" Then the answer, and suddenly seeing him bury his face in his hands and weep for our unborn daughter. </span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: 13.696px;">Every dream and hope we had for her stolen from us in that moment. He w</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.696px;">ill</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: 13.696px;"> never get to take her to daddy/daughter dances. </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.696px;">Never coach her in softball or watch her twirl. </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: 13.696px;">She w</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.696px;">ill</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: 13.696px;"> never ride on his shoulders or squeeze his face with her hands. H</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.696px;">e will never walk her down the a<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">isle<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> to meet<i> her</i> hu<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">sband.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />I grieve and ache for my daughter, but when I think about what my husband has lost too, it's almost too much to bear.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />Shortly after Lily's diagnosis, we met with our pastor. He offered his prayers, the support of our church, and two pieces of wisdom I will never forget. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>The first:</b> He told us that we need to remember that <i>we will each grieve differently</i> and that is okay. He said the most important thing is to be aware that we will go through this differently. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /><b>The second:</b> He looked directly at my husband and told him, <i>"You need to talk about this</i>."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We don't talk about child loss nearly as much as we should and we certainly don't talk about the dads much. So often the attention and focus is on the moms, after all we are the ones who carry our babies and for the most part, we may be the ones who visually show our grief.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The dads generally go back to work sooner. They may need to shut off their emotions in order to get through the day. They may put up a strong front to be able to take care of their wife. I'm even guessing people rarely ask them how they are <i>really</i> doing. More often than not, they hear people asking about the moms. I imagine they don't feel like they even have <b><i>permission</i></b> to grieve for their child.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The grief of missing Lily didn't really hit me until several months after she died. When the pain meds were gone the fogged finally lifted, and the shock wore off. The waves were washing over me and I could hardly catch my breath. </span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And I was mad at my husband. </span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Because he wasn't going through it <i>like I was</i>. He seemed fine. He could function. He could go to work. He had normal conversations. I was lying in bed one night while Jason was reading and I just started crying and I couldn't stop. Jason leaned over and held me and these four words he whispered was all I needed to hear, " I miss her too." </span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We grieve differently.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am a writer. I write my pain. I write it down and share it with the world in hopes that it reaches the right people for the right reasons. I get it out of me. Sometimes it pretty and sometimes it's not. I close myself off from the world who doesn't understand me or even tries to. <b>I cry.<i> A lot.</i></b><i> </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">For Jason, the grief builds and builds. It starts out slow and steady and he can handle it for awhile. And when it gets to be too much, he breaks. He cries. <i>And then he talks. </i>Sometimes to me and sometimes to one of the few people he lets in.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We are getting better at it...<i>if that's possible to "get better" at grief</i>. I can see now when it's getting to be too much for him and a wave is about to hit. Sometimes I know it means we need some "just us" time and sometimes I know he needs to talk to a dude. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But this is just my husband's story, how he is living this life without his daughter. There are many, many other dads out there who are missing one of their children, or several of their children, or <i>ALL of their children</i>. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And they are hurting. Whether they <i>tell </i>you or not. Whether they <i>show</i> it or not. They are hurting. Underneath that strong and brave exterior is a man who just wants to hold his baby again. And play catch with his son. Or give his daughter butterfly kisses. </span></div>
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<i><b><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But instead, his arms are empty. His eyes may be dry, but his heart is weeping.</span></b></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Remember him and remember all the dads who we cannot see grieving.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">This Father's Day, all of us at All That Love Can Do wish peace and healing to all the brave daddies who did all they could for their children. You are our heroes!<br /><br />Please come to our <a href="https://www.facebook.com/AllThatLoveCanDo/" target="_blank">Facebook Page</a> to share the name of the father you're honoring today, and, if you'd like, a photo of him with his special baby in heaven <3. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><b>~ ~ ~</b></i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghCHimEe8PqcTs8N0RR-Dr3w9dW_150uA4-dKktfSMep4Y9ueYMOae2ZNg3hpN9BiNFHxFory2ARC531XcIUNEVrbFkQLhut8MMhYavm93Ttj5kiVjEfLdSWZMcKFESMvc9JoyG8Uclkg/s1600/Kellie_Bio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #e8929d; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghCHimEe8PqcTs8N0RR-Dr3w9dW_150uA4-dKktfSMep4Y9ueYMOae2ZNg3hpN9BiNFHxFory2ARC531XcIUNEVrbFkQLhut8MMhYavm93Ttj5kiVjEfLdSWZMcKFESMvc9JoyG8Uclkg/s200/Kellie_Bio.jpg" style="border: 0px dotted rgb(59, 19, 16);" width="200" /></span></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #6b6b6b; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.696px; line-height: 23.92px;"><i><b></b></i></span><br style="background-color: white; color: #6b6b6b; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13.696px; line-height: 23.92px;" />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span data-reactid=".1u.1.0.0.0.0.1:$mid=11426008564971=20ad92e85701a920d63.0.$1.0.$right.0.0.1.0.$text0:0:$4:0" style="color: #141823; line-height: 18px;"><b><a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/search/label/Kellie%20Soper" style="color: #e8929d; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Kellie Soper </a></b>lives in Arizona and is wife to her amazing husband, Jason. Together they have three beautiful children, one on earth and two sweet, perfect souls in Heaven. Ted is a wild, silly, and rambunctious toddler. Their sweet Lily Frances was born sleeping on November 12, 2014. They learned at their 18 week ultrasound that Lily had a fatal neural tubal defect the doctors said was "incompatible with life." Kellie and Jason both knew Lily was not a "decision", but their precious daughter and they believe her life was of value, no matter what. She carried Lily with love for 42 weeks and 2 days. They miss her every single day, but are grateful for the honor and privilege of being her parents. Their youngest daughter is Clare Therese. She met her big sister in heaven after a few precious months on earth with her family. Y</span><span data-reactid=".1u.1.0.0.0.0.1:$mid=11426008564971=20ad92e85701a920d63.0.$1.0.$right.0.0.1.0.$text0:0:$4:0" style="color: #141823; line-height: 18px;">ou can read more about their family on Kellie's blog, </span><a data-reactid=".1u.1.0.0.0.0.1:$mid=11426008564971=20ad92e85701a920d63.0.$1.0.$right.0.0.1.0.$range0:0" href="http://www.ladysoper.blogspot.com/" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Life and Love</a><span data-reactid=".1u.1.0.0.0.0.1:$mid=11426008564971=20ad92e85701a920d63.0.$1.0.$right.0.0.1.0.$end:0:$0:0" style="color: #141823; line-height: 18px;">.</span></span></div>
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RaeAnne Fredricksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01407539790552958900noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6618043027777126173.post-40481893546774079642016-05-30T10:13:00.000-05:002016-05-30T10:13:03.510-05:00Day of Despair<div style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13.696px;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #6b6b6b; line-height: 23.92px;">by </span><b style="background-color: white; color: #6b6b6b; line-height: 23.92px;"><a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/search/label/Kellie%20Soper" style="color: #e8929d; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Kellie Soper</a></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Some call it their "D-Day". The day they learned of their child's fate. The day they learned that every hope and dream they had for their child was shattered. The day they <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">may have been</span> told their child was "<i>incompatible with life</i>".<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Or the</span> day someone referred to their child as an "option" and no<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> longer</span> a person. The day they received the diagnosis that shattered their world as they once knew it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Our D-Day was <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://ladysoper.blogspot.com/2014/06/love-may-cost-us-dearly.html&source=gmail&ust=1464705803168000&usg=AFQjCNEINF8Thr3eeVK9Ar0tii2MkYsP5w" href="http://ladysoper.blogspot.com/2014/06/love-may-cost-us-dearly.html" style="color: #4285f4; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">t<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">wo</span></span> years ago</a>. At times it feels like yesterday, but mostly it feels like an eternity since that day. I honestly can barely remember what life was like before that day <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">two</span> years ago. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But I can remember very clearly every single moment of that day. Every insignificant detail, every feeling that I felt.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It started out as a great day. <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My son T</span>ed had been sick all week and he was finally feeling better. Our dear friends' daughter was just born the day before. Our other dear friends were getting married the next day. Sandwiched in between was our "routine" anatomy scan. <b>I was so excited to see our baby again</b>. I had no feelings, no intuitions that anything was wrong. <b><i>In fact, I felt wonderful...on top of my world just before it crumbled below me.</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Jason had the afternoon off so we were going to have a late lunch date after. On the way to our appointment, we were trying to decide where we wanted to eat and talking about how much fun our friends' wedding would be the next day. We were in much need of a date night.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I <i>thought</i> our "routine" anatomy scan was going normal. I couldn't remember the "order" of Ted's ultrasound to know if this was the same or not. It didn't phase me at all that we hadn't seen our child's profile. We saw ten perfect fingers and ten perfect toes. Two lungs and two kidneys. And we saw our baby's heart...four chambers, beating perfectly and beating strong.<i><b> In a few minutes, I would learn for the first time that a perfect and strong beating heart wouldn't be enough.</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Then the doctor came in and shared with us a word that I barely knew and immediately became my greatest fear realized. I learned what the word <b><i>anencephaly</i></b> would mean for my family. I learned that every hope and dream I had for my child was stolen from me.</span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And then I learned the real meaning of despair. It's the complete loss or absence of hope. </span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">That's where I was <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://ladysoper.blogspot.com/2014/06/love-may-cost-us-dearly.html&source=gmail&ust=1464705803168000&usg=AFQjCNEINF8Thr3eeVK9Ar0tii2MkYsP5w" href="http://ladysoper.blogspot.com/2014/06/love-may-cost-us-dearly.html" style="color: #4285f4; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">two years ago</a>...completely hopeless, utter despair. I thought I knew heartache before. I thought I knew what it was like to lose someone you loved<i>. Really, I didn't know at all</i>...not until this moment, <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">two </span>years ago. </span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">True despair. </span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We drove home in silence. The only sounds were our tears and trying to catch our breath. We laid on our bed together and just cried. I told Jason I was so sorry this was happening to him. It made him cry even more. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">After awhile he left to call his parents and pick up Ted at our friends' house. I can only imagine how hard it was for him to go pick him up and tell our friends by himself. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I just laid there sobbing and praying. Over and over, I begged God to not make me do this. I begged Him and begged Him to take her then. I didn't think I could endure the next five months. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Two</span> years later and I can't even begin to explain to you the <i>guilt I carry for ever thinking that</i>, let alone screaming it out loud. But that's where despair leads you. <b><i>That's what the absence of hope looks like. </i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Even after her birth, even after the day I held her for the last time, even after my last kiss on her cheek and seeing her in this life forever...<i>even after all of those moments, I can honestly say, nothing compares to the despair of her diagnosis.</i></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It was the worst day of my life. </span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I cried every single day for weeks. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Slowly, somehow, by the grace of God and prayers, every day, little by little, I was able to pick myself up a little bit. We talked to our priest. We met with another family who had faced the same diagnosis <i>and survived. </i>We had unbelievable support from family and friends. We learned the very definition of community.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As the months passed, the despair still lingered, but it was <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://ladysoper.blogspot.com/2014/06/grace-not-strength.html&source=gmail&ust=1464705803168000&usg=AFQjCNHEqRWciCnjG62iX4EJjZqH9zqSjw" href="http://ladysoper.blogspot.com/2014/06/grace-not-strength.html" style="color: #4285f4; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">overpowered by grace</a>. <i><b>The grace of God wins every time when you choose life. </b></i>After the hardest two years of my life, I believe that whole-heartedly. It was never strength, it was always grace.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Grace reminded me that my daughter was a precious gift no matter what. She deserved every chance of life possible. <i>She is not a definition, she is not an option, she is not despair. She is a person. <b>She is my daughter.</b></i> </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguwP9SJENNvqHZeY4V49MlLaW-QjLmWiGFRHEN33Mx3dlo_wsdohkxSIibermlYbV13CUZy1dOMut8qbObyF22HDt02msaQ3AaJFpZzDLj1LEiVDCJkKUEd4VQHSSkOtQkH1sirm0b69o/s1600/Lilly-130-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguwP9SJENNvqHZeY4V49MlLaW-QjLmWiGFRHEN33Mx3dlo_wsdohkxSIibermlYbV13CUZy1dOMut8qbObyF22HDt02msaQ3AaJFpZzDLj1LEiVDCJkKUEd4VQHSSkOtQkH1sirm0b69o/s400/Lilly-130-2.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; font-size: 13.696px;">While</span><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; font-size: 13.696px;"> </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.696px;">these past two years have been harder than I imagined</span><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; font-size: 13.696px;">, I have no regrets and I would not change anything. I would have given anything to save her, but I would never trade her for another.</span><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; font-size: 13.696px;"> </span><i style="font-weight: bold;">She is unrepeatable and irreplaceabl</i><b style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif;"><i>e. She is my precious daughter.</i></b></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI17sOiVr7ulK4PiCp6jrSt24yhjSXbibeUPJ3hu-HOH0UAPIDZCMk0AMFlI7sR1pJIZiSKDaDPW8IFqqTxZymJ7t5d5WTA9L3vhLNLx-1YeajJ2oi0aDW5n7ZUAkhb1JnsKu6u7xFM0Y/s1600/10296946_897823010243610_3156420765264707120_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI17sOiVr7ulK4PiCp6jrSt24yhjSXbibeUPJ3hu-HOH0UAPIDZCMk0AMFlI7sR1pJIZiSKDaDPW8IFqqTxZymJ7t5d5WTA9L3vhLNLx-1YeajJ2oi0aDW5n7ZUAkhb1JnsKu6u7xFM0Y/s400/10296946_897823010243610_3156420765264707120_n.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I have learned more and grown more in th<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">ese past two years</span> than all my years combined. I have learned some hard lessons about how people close to you deal with your grief. I have learned that my family is more amazing than I ever dreamed they could be. I have learned that the world keeps moving despite your constant pain. I have learned my husband is the most compassionate and sensitive man I have ever known and my love for him today far exceeds the day we were married. I have learned how cruel this world really is and I am grateful Lily does not have to experience it. I have learned to never take a single day for granted. I wake up every single morning thanking God for another day with my family all the while longing for glimpses of Lily. </span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">More than anything else, I have learned that Lily is worth every second of heartache I will face for the rest of my life. <i>I love that she is my daughter.</i> </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Holding her in my arms helped me let go of the despair. Kissing her cheeks filled my heart with so much love it could burst. Memorizing her perfect hands and feet carries me through each day. <b>Remembering how much <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://ladysoper.blogspot.com/2015/01/heaven-meets-earth-lilys-birth-story.html&source=gmail&ust=1464705803168000&usg=AFQjCNFiuLzwXKyC3U4jjOgo2fTTlURLxA" href="http://ladysoper.blogspot.com/2015/01/heaven-meets-earth-lilys-birth-story.html" style="color: #4285f4; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">love and peace</a> filled the room when she was born makes it all worth it.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am not the same person I was <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">two years </span>ago, I'm not even close. But the truth is, I don't want to be that person again because that would mean I missed out on experiencing a love that was so perfect and so pure. <i>All she knew was love.</i> I would have missed out on knowing Lily and loving Lily <i><b>and that alone is worth a life time of heartache.<br /></b></i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span data-reactid=".1u.1.0.0.0.0.1:$mid=11426008564971=20ad92e85701a920d63.0.$1.0.$right.0.0.1.0.$text0:0:$4:0" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; line-height: 18px;"><b><a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/search/label/Kellie%20Soper" style="color: #e8929d; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Kellie Soper </a></b>lives in Arizona and is wife to her amazing husband, Jason. Together they have three beautiful children, one on earth and two sweet, perfect souls in Heaven. Ted is a wild, silly, and rambunctious toddler. Their sweet Lily Frances was born sleeping on November 12, 2014. They learned at their 18 week ultrasound that Lily had a fatal neural tubal defect the doctors said was "incompatible with life." Kellie and Jason both knew Lily was not a "decision", but their precious daughter and they believe her life was of value, no matter what. She carried Lily with love for 42 weeks and 2 days. They miss her every single day, but are grateful for the honor and privilege of being her parents. Their youngest daughter is Clare Therese. She met her big sister in heaven after a few precious months on earth with her family. Y</span><span data-reactid=".1u.1.0.0.0.0.1:$mid=11426008564971=20ad92e85701a920d63.0.$1.0.$right.0.0.1.0.$text0:0:$4:0" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; line-height: 18px;">ou can read more about their family on Kellie's blog, </span><a data-reactid=".1u.1.0.0.0.0.1:$mid=11426008564971=20ad92e85701a920d63.0.$1.0.$right.0.0.1.0.$range0:0" href="http://www.ladysoper.blogspot.com/" style="background-color: white; color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Life and Love</a><span data-reactid=".1u.1.0.0.0.0.1:$mid=11426008564971=20ad92e85701a920d63.0.$1.0.$right.0.0.1.0.$end:0:$0:0" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; line-height: 18px;">.</span></span></div>
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RaeAnne Fredricksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01407539790552958900noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6618043027777126173.post-86349599033259335032016-05-26T07:50:00.002-05:002016-05-26T07:50:28.690-05:00Hyrum's Story, by his Mama<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">A Life Well Lived, By <a href="http://www.facebook.com/godspeedhyrum" target="_blank">Ashley Wiltbank</a></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif;">I've heard many people say that the year they lost their child was the worst year of their lives. I refuse to make that true for me. 2016 has already been the best year of my life. A year I'll remember forever. It's the year I got to witness and hold a miracle. A gift directly from God. Proof that He is real, and that He loves me. In 2016, He gave me Hyrum.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Technically, our journey with Hyrum started in 2015. On December 7, 2015, when we were referred it a perinatalogist, after my OB saw fluid on our baby's brain and bright spots on his heart. Maybe I was oblivious or naïve, either way, we were not at all expecting the tech to turn to us and say that she "saw what your OB saw, and I see a lot of other issues too". She then went on to list nearly every major organ system and the problems she saw in each one. I don't think I really processed what it meant until after several hours of more testing, when the genetic counselor told us that our baby would most likely be stillborn, and that if he wasn't, the odds of him making it to his first birthday were less than 8%. She said if she were me, she would terminate the pregnancy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Luckily, when we met the MFMS, he was much more positive. He didn't bring up termination, and although the prognosis for our sweet unborn baby was still grim, he encouraged us to make the most of our time with our son. We were introduced to a perinatal palliative care nurse, Berdette. She told us that our son's life was going to be brief, but that it was still within our power to make his life wonderful.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgsmJwJNKLkv6JLNV4GWjYJ5WUyJo3bwIgd9xMA0Su_riA8imCaoSNxEowXVA-wrhxUoeMbSQjUgS12MI9sT39tcjLu9C_ce1cqbuzPpHRjlriPh2GCatV7shaqN6oLfkzCQJa1VgS8gk/s1600/h1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgsmJwJNKLkv6JLNV4GWjYJ5WUyJo3bwIgd9xMA0Su_riA8imCaoSNxEowXVA-wrhxUoeMbSQjUgS12MI9sT39tcjLu9C_ce1cqbuzPpHRjlriPh2GCatV7shaqN6oLfkzCQJa1VgS8gk/s1600/h1.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">A friend brought us this picture by the artist Simon Dewey, not long after we got the diagnosis. We knew that Hyrum's place in our family had meaning and that God had a plan for him. And we knew most of all, as our daughter said, "Jesus is going to take care of our baby!" The title of the painting is "In His Constant Care". It brought us so much comfort.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It was undeniable that God was sending us a valiant, noble little spirit! We'd tossed around the idea of naming him Hyrum, and after finding out that it means "noble", "whiteness", "borrowed" and "my brother is exalted", we decided that that would be the perfect name for our kids to call their brother!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Some days during my pregnancy were SO hard. I was so discouraged, and so sad. But I'm so grateful that most of the days were actually pretty good! In taking Berdette's words to heart, we tried to make the most of our time with our son. Every day I got to wake up and feel him kicking felt like a gift from Heaven. We took time to get to know him. Our other three kids loved to feel him kick them! We would sing to him every night,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"Godspeed little man, sweet dreams little man, oh my love will fly to you each night on angel's wings, Godspeed, sweet dreams". <span id="goog_1278850990"></span><span id="goog_1278850991"></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I felt more confident, more loved when Hyrum was alive inside of me. I felt so honored to get to carry this beautiful little soul and have him literally be a part of me. I just knew he was so pure. Too pure for this earth. Strong impressions told me before I ever even saw him that he accepted this body and this short life, that his heart is not set on the vain things of this world. He's pure and perfect enough to serve his purpose without hav<span style="color: black;">ing</span><span style="color: lime;"><span style="color: black;"> to be physically with us.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />I tried so hard to listen to the things I knew Hyrum was trying to teach me. I've never had such a sure knowledge of a loving Heavenly Father. I've never had such love for the people around me. I've never been more motivated to be a good person. I've never been so grateful to see the sunrise, sunset, blue sky, rainy days, cold days, bright days and dark days. I wanted to spend as much happy time as I could with my kids. I wanted Hyrum to hear his siblings and hear our happy voices and know he was part of a family who loved each other and loved him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Some days I failed miserably. Some days fear and stress consumed me. But my noble little Hyrum motivated me to press forward. I wanted to make his life beautiful.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We felt like every person we met while I was pregnant with Hyrum, from our doctor to our photographer to the random stranger who paid for my prenatal vitamins at Safeway one day, was intricately placed in our path. I never knew such amazing, compassionate people existed, willing to do such grand acts of service for complete strangers. My husband made the comment that if Hyrum had lived, these would be the types of people he would associate with and bring into our lives. And even though his time was short, he still brought them to us!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />I'd given birth three times before, and each birth experience was beautiful in its own way, but nothing could compare to the overwhelming feelings of love, peace and the presence of Heaven in the room when Hyrum was born. He didn't cry or move for several minutes after he came out, but I knew him immediately, and I loved him immediately. The second I saw his face was the first time on this journey that I ever experienced denial. I thought to myself, "They said something was going to be wrong with him. Lethally wrong. You can't hand me a baby this perfect and tell me he's not going to live!" He was perfect!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Sadly, my denial met reality just 3 1/2 hours later. Hyrum waited patiently for everyone to go home, then passed peacefully in my arms.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We were given everything we had hoped for his life. We were able to give him a name and a blessing. He was welcomed and loved by his siblings. His grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins all came to meet him. We swaddled him and snuggled him and sang to him. He got a birthday cake and we got lots of pictures. But he continues to give us so much more than we ever could've imagined!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif;">Everything that I felt when I was pregnant with Hyrum has come back ten fold now that he's passed on. I want to be a better person, and I'm throwing myself out of my comfort zone to try to be a person worthy to call herself Hyrum's mom. Every little thing reminds me of him and how I want to do everything I can to get back to him. I want to be a better mom, better wife, better friend. I want to be closer to God, and in doing so, I grow closer to Hyrum. I look for people's souls now. Not their mortal vessels. I know that's what Hyrum would do. That's what he's taught me to do. I want to share God's love, because that's what Hyrum did for me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />Just like when I was pregnant, some days I fail miserably. At times, he pain and the emptiness is more unbearable than I ever could have imagined. The dark days are darker, but the bright days are brighter, and even though it's been less than two months, there have been days that have been completely bright, with no darkness in sight.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Some people live their whole lives not knowing their purpose, without living for anyone else. Hyrum did that with three hours. He has shown me that life, and what you do with your life MATTERS! You don't have to make millions or cure cancer, sometimes the simplest things, the simplest beings change the world around them. We've had so many people tell us about how Hyrum has changed them too. I know that that is part of his purpose. As much as I sometimes want to have him to myself, I know he was meant to be shared and to touch others.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">D&C <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_1719818551" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; position: relative; top: -2px; z-index: 0;" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ" style="position: relative; top: 2px; z-index: -1;">18:15</span></span> says, "And if it so be that you should labor all your days...and bring, save it be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with him in the kingdom of my Father!"<br /><br />I know Hyrum is there! His life was short but he lived it for us, and especially for me. He labored through his short life to bring others to God. I know his joy is great and that he's waiting for me to do my part to meet him there. Hyrum has shown me my purpose. He's taught me that I can have everything I've ever wanted out of my life, and that the things I truly want are not the things of this world. I'm not perfect, but I'm progressing and the thought of holding Hyrum again someday pushes me every day.<br /><br />I've just begun to open up a world and a part of myself that I never knew existed. I wish I could've learned these things another way, but I'm forever honored that Hyrum is the one who was willing to come teach me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/godspeedhyrum" target="_blank"><br /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/godspeedhyrum" target="_blank">Godspeed Little Man</a>! Sweet Dreams Little Man!</span></div>
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RaeAnne Fredricksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01407539790552958900noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6618043027777126173.post-17812503303100216852016-05-24T00:00:00.000-05:002016-05-24T08:16:03.108-05:007 Things I Wish I'd Known<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 1.295; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Your son will not be able to survive outside the womb.” Those are words that I will never forget. The day my entire life changed. Knowing your child can’t survive, and each day could be your child’s last. Your dreams and wishes turn from watching them grow up to just wanting to see them breath, to cry just one time.</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">What I wouldn’t have given for a list of what to do. I looked, but people don’t tell you what to do after a fetal fatal diagnoses. They don’t give advice, most people don’t even know what to say. These are the top 7 things I wish someone would have told me soon after my son’s fetal fatal diagnosis. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVufmXlP8xAtYFNpE3M0NkK9xf3uAkZNmaacvJyFaSE_xbN_iudij15eJPnMJq58Xk2etvmeZ0qLfSiJCU5m5yh3OTuaVMW0emTACcA6G7KsFk6ISkfzXDxSil9VMupZ6Q9POzNboNGyE/s1600/7+Things.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="489" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVufmXlP8xAtYFNpE3M0NkK9xf3uAkZNmaacvJyFaSE_xbN_iudij15eJPnMJq58Xk2etvmeZ0qLfSiJCU5m5yh3OTuaVMW0emTACcA6G7KsFk6ISkfzXDxSil9VMupZ6Q9POzNboNGyE/s640/7+Things.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">No matter what choice you make, it is the right one</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. That feeling of not knowing what to do, and how to handle things, that’s okay. Make your choices out of love, as a mother or father. You know it’s the best choice because you are doing it out love. Let your love guide you, and then all your choices will be correct.</span></span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: decimal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Guard your relationships</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> (marriage, significant other). Grief is hard, and people grieve very differently (see below) that is not uncommon to rip relationships apart. Remember to take care of you and your spouse. Lean on each other, and understand that the anger is not towards him/her but towards your new reality. A reality that no parent wants to find themselves in.</span></span></div>
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: decimal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We all grieve differently.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Way, way differently. While I wanted to barely drag myself out of bed (and some days it was my 2 year old making me get out of bed), my husband wanted to go back to work as soon as possible. While I cried over everything, he would just say, it’s going to be okay. It didn’t mean he loved our son any less, just simply that he grieved differently. It was very hard some days to deal with the way he grieved. I wanted to yell often at him, why do you not love our son as much as me? Why do you not care? I knew though, I knew that he did care. He did love him just as much as me. He just grieves differently. He grieves with distractions, and I grieve with giving myself alone time and being able to talk it out.</span></span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: decimal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Make as many memories as you can, while your child is still here</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Just because you won’t be able to take your child to the zoo when they come into this world, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t now. Make those memories now. I took my son to as many basketball games as possible. He loved them, he would jump up and down and go nuts every time. That is a memory that I can always cherish.</span></span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: decimal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Take as many pictures as possible!</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I know a lot of women hate to have their picture taken, especially when they are pregnant. Take a moment and remove how you feel about your body and remember the love you are carrying. The sweet child you are carrying. You can even just capture your belly at places you would like to make memories with your child. </span></span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: decimal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It is okay to be scared</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. It is totally normal to be scared of letting the ones closes to you out of your sight. Those worse case scenarios going through your mind. That is your fear and reality trying to sort out this new reality your life has entered. </span></span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: decimal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You are NEVER actually ready</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. There were days that I thought I was ready, I was doing everything I could to prepare myself for the day my son would come into this world. I knew he may come into this world alive with very short time or already passed. I did everything I could to prepare for that day, but I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t have prepared for that day, and that is okay. I was not prepared to say good bye. I was not prepared to walk out empty handed, and that was okay. I just took it moment by moment.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">When your reality becomes something that you were not prepared for, it becomes hard for you to function. The basic functions of life become priority, and your brain tells you the rest isn’t important. I wish I could remember every second I had with him, but the memories come in waves. Sometimes the sadder memories engulf me, but as time passes the beautiful memories surface more often to bring joy to my heart. No amount of preparation would have gotten me ready for the day I had to say goodbye, but with a little guidance and a lot of support, that painfully joyful day was manageable. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg6oAmYxFhQtLKOZymolmgLqwaF8IVR1QVk4ib1r66BY4rGQJVy97VeNjY68p_ZT5gLcKdnNxiWTtx2cFIqfzDe8N1YZ531gwiJRdFrkKHUkjPN_n_NCa-yzDHz1rF_Cw-EjVey6E9FMo/s1600/Dana.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg6oAmYxFhQtLKOZymolmgLqwaF8IVR1QVk4ib1r66BY4rGQJVy97VeNjY68p_ZT5gLcKdnNxiWTtx2cFIqfzDe8N1YZ531gwiJRdFrkKHUkjPN_n_NCa-yzDHz1rF_Cw-EjVey6E9FMo/s200/Dana.jpe" width="142" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>Dana Thompson</b> is the founder and photographer for <a href="http://www.theangelfishproject.org/" target="_blank">The Angelfish Project</a>, a blogger at <a href="http://www.tocarrylove.com/" target="_blank">To Carry Love</a> and a middle school teacher. Dana is the wife to Roderick and they have three children: Elexander, who is four, Tristan, who has been with the Lord since February 14, 2014, and Adalynn, their 1year old. Dana loves playing with her children, watching Roderick coach football games, photography, teaching, and cooking.</span>RaeAnne Fredricksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01407539790552958900noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6618043027777126173.post-62216778637727087462016-05-16T00:00:00.000-05:002016-05-16T00:00:19.893-05:00Thoughts on Carrying to Birth, from a Couple Who's Been There<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background: rgb(254, 254, 254); line-height: 107%;">So there I was, a grown woman, curled up in the fetal position on the cold kitchen floor, screaming out while
clutching my ever growing belly. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background: rgb(254, 254, 254); line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background: rgb(254, 254, 254); line-height: 107%;">My ever growing baby. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fefefe; line-height: 107%;">Begging, pleading,
demanding to be heard. By God? Maybe. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fefefe; line-height: 107%;">I felt warm arms wrap around me, it was
my husband huddling up behind me to hold me through it. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fefefe; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fefefe; line-height: 107%;">There were many of
these outbursts. Completely uncontrollable. Sometimes it felt like a complete
dream (nightmare). I would wake up and for a split second, have to remind
myself what was happening. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fefefe; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fefefe; line-height: 107%;">Nighttime was the toughest for me though. I have a
hard time explaining why, but it all would sort of flood my mind at the end of
the day. It was a lot to process. Plus, that's when Gianna was most active. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fefefe; line-height: 107%;">I
would be lying if I said that right before every ultrasound post-diagnosis I
didn't have a fleeting feeling of <i>'maybe she will be ok this time.</i>' From a
logical standpoint it sounds ridiculous, I know that. But it's our child, so
logic is out the window. Heart trumps logic when it comes to our baby. After a
thorough check by the perinatologist, once again we are reminded that <i>no, she
is not ok</i>. In fact, it felt like every time we were hit with worse news than
before. Every ultrasound discovered yet another reason for her to not make it. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fefefe; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fefefe; line-height: 107%;">It's a struggle, this journey you're taking. It won't always be beautiful.
Sometimes it'll be real, raw, and heavy. Some days you will feel broken down,
unable to simply get out of bed (that's ok). It's all so very confusing. Do you
start grieving after diagnosis or after he or she dies? How can you make the
most of your time, while starting to grieve their impending death? I don't have
answers for you, all I can do is share our experience. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fefefe; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fefefe; line-height: 107%;">We stayed in bed for the
first week after diagnosis. We got up to eat and that was it, sometimes we
didn't even do that. Thankfully my lovely mother came almost daily just to help
clean and cook, that was so crucial for us, especially because she didn't
expect anything out of us. She came in, helped (sometimes without even being
seen), and left. It was like she knew exactly what we needed each day, to be
left alone, or to be supported. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fefefe; line-height: 107%;">We read to Gianna every night. We sang songs
with her. We said special prayers. We made incredible memories that will last a
lifetime. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKP6avuQf31IfYkJLHnen4DypXczO2nwNkKGMqk4vqmSB452wTlkfre9BaRIc5Lg_oOVDBrhw2T420HgpWtsYj6pXH5ep3qVFeUPDVj3hf7JGd29zBr4cG_1Ago3WSSllYM0l4VWzEu_M/s1600/Giana.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKP6avuQf31IfYkJLHnen4DypXczO2nwNkKGMqk4vqmSB452wTlkfre9BaRIc5Lg_oOVDBrhw2T420HgpWtsYj6pXH5ep3qVFeUPDVj3hf7JGd29zBr4cG_1Ago3WSSllYM0l4VWzEu_M/s400/Giana.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17.94px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">Gianna's first baseball game</span></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: #fefefe; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">When I look back on my carry to birth journey, I have no regrets.
None. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fefefe; line-height: 107%;">There are things I wish I did, memories during our short time together
that I wish we had made, but no regrets. Therein lies the problem, what would
ever be <i>'enough</i>'? How many more memories would ever leave me feeling completely
satisfied? </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fefefe; line-height: 107%;">Well, a lifetime. Me passing before her. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fefefe; line-height: 107%;">We've all said it a
thousand times, but I'll say it again, your child is still worthy regardless of
diagnosis. Your child is still the same beautiful child you started with. We
love them the same through diagnosis and beyond because their illness/disorder
doesn't define our love for our child, inside or outside of the womb. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fefefe; line-height: 107%;">Life will
never be like it was before, ever. I was talking to my husband about this and
he said it's odd, because even though life has completely changed, we've had
many times since where we've felt more alive than ever. We feel it's our duty
to live for our child that couldn't stay long here on Earth. It's not easy and
some days your grief will get in the way of you 'living to your fullest'.
You'll learn to live with it in your own way. If someone says 'just give it
time' don't count on time. It's ok to feel that pain, in fact, it's necessary. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fefefe; line-height: 107%;">People will come in and out of your life after losing your baby. You'll learn
who will stay in forever, and who maybe shouldn't have been there in the first
place. It's not about people that are "with you" or "against
you", but about those that understand or at least respect what you feel,
not just now, but also in the future. Our appreciation for those that fit this
mold is overwhelming as its that support that has continued to help carry us
through. Feel free to involve them in whatever small things you do for
remembering your angel. You may be surprised to find that your loved ones will
not only feel appreciated to be involved in something so special to you. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fefefe; line-height: 107%;">Life
will change again and again. Grief will change again and again. What you need
in grief will always be evolving. Going through the loss of our baby made us
realize what's really important. There are a lot of previous stresses or dramas
that honestly, just aren't that serious to us anymore. It opened our eyes to
what really matters in life. My hope is that you find what and who your heart
needs (or can't handle) on this lifelong grief journey. It's a learning process
that will ebb and flow with just one constant; your undying, unwavering love
for your child.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fefefe; line-height: 107%;">~ ~ ~</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTbOIYbG2dF6g4YjEzKjCrXPIHP1NXw-wKSWpxWsspTnBNp8p8j3zUR79Im1tw4d9Py91q7uyIr6HU5xdj9bk_QGYci_jJaUNl9WVTslx4bFoIb4Ug3I7DUVcdqZD4RMubm921YRpxsz8/s1600/Russos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTbOIYbG2dF6g4YjEzKjCrXPIHP1NXw-wKSWpxWsspTnBNp8p8j3zUR79Im1tw4d9Py91q7uyIr6HU5xdj9bk_QGYci_jJaUNl9WVTslx4bFoIb4Ug3I7DUVcdqZD4RMubm921YRpxsz8/s200/Russos.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background: rgb(254, 254, 254); line-height: 107%;">Steve and Christine have been
together for 11 years. They are what some might call 'soul mates' and have
experienced almost everything imaginable together, including losing their first
beloved child, Gianna Marie. They've gone on to have a surviving son, Romeo,
and include both of their children in their daily lives. </span><span class="accessibleelem"><i style="background-size: 16px 16px; display: inline-block; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="clip: rect(1px 1px 1px 1px); overflow: hidden;"><span style="background: rgb(254 , 254 , 254); color: #4b4f56; line-height: 107%;">❤</span></span></i></span><span class="accessibleelem"><i><span style="background: rgb(254 , 254 , 254); color: #4b4f56; line-height: 107%;">️</span></i></span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
RaeAnne Fredricksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01407539790552958900noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6618043027777126173.post-54362636114104091002016-05-01T08:26:00.002-05:002016-05-01T08:28:20.400-05:00A Gift for Mother's Day<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">by <a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/search/label/Bethany%20Conkel" target="_blank">Bethany Conkel</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I was not expecting to find myself in the card aisle at our local grocery store. I was just trying to kill a little time and ended up there by mistake. It’s not an area of the store I tend to frequent. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">As I walked through, Mother’s Day cards seemed to jump off the rack. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I briefly glanced at a card with characters from Disney’s 101 Dalmatians on it. A cute love note to mom was written in a clever ditty. In that moment, I couldn’t help but wonder what type of card my son would have given me this year. Would it have been handmade with brightly colored scribbles or store bought with his favorite cartoon character printed on the card? Would he have given me a flower planted clumsily in a pot, or would he have helped to make breakfast-in-bed for me? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It’s been 3-1/2 years since my son was born and passed all on the same day. Although it has been several years, I still wonder sometimes what he would have been like and what life my life would look like with him in it. What would my Mother’s Day turn out to be like with a 3-1/2-year-old little boy running around?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">As I walked out of the aisle, I felt sad that I will never get a card from my son. I will never get to cherish a special Mother’s Day gift from him. As I continued to work my way through the store, I realized something. Although I will never get a physical gift from my son, he has still given me a gift. MANY GIFTS, in fact. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The first gift my son gave me was the gift of motherhood. My sweet boy was my firstborn and made me a mother. Although the time I had to mother him in my arms was short, I still get to mother his memory daily! I will be forever thankful to him for making me a mother. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii3Ao56wkzKm7EbLA0L4JqArY-gf0XMKjRLi-fkJQeIEQFaUdTN1NM3s1iVJZZcKNA8nINVGiCqgwnfp5bnJSsjFsnqaJr7ecr6QlUNGSjf4K9iB_MMKgOBI5dgaRUQxv4xQeUTGkyDZE/s1600/mommy+and+A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii3Ao56wkzKm7EbLA0L4JqArY-gf0XMKjRLi-fkJQeIEQFaUdTN1NM3s1iVJZZcKNA8nINVGiCqgwnfp5bnJSsjFsnqaJr7ecr6QlUNGSjf4K9iB_MMKgOBI5dgaRUQxv4xQeUTGkyDZE/s400/mommy+and+A.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span id="goog_1069520679"></span><span id="goog_1069520680"></span><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My son also gave me the gift of empathy. Before saying hello and goodbye to my son, I never understood the loss of a baby. I had met a few bereaved mothers, and honestly never understood why the pain lingered, even years later. Now I know. Now I understand. Now I am able to connect with bereaved mothers, support them, and empathize with their feelings. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My son gave me the gift of knowledge. Before receiving a terminal diagnosis for my son, I never knew families even faced such things. I had never heard of anencephaly, trisomy 18 or 13, limb body wall complex, or Potter’s syndrome. I did not know things like perinatal hospice, bereavement doulas, or neonatal organ donation even existed. Although learning about these things has been difficult, receiving the gift of knowledge about this world has changed my outlook on life and allowed me to help others in new ways. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My son gave me the gift of friendship. I cannot even count the number of people I have met, connections I have made, and friendships I have forged because of my son. Some friendships are so deep that I feel like I gained extended family members. I have met some truly incredible people, and my life has been enriched in so many ways because of them. Had it not been for my son, I never would have met these amazing individuals. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My son has taught me that life is both fragile and precious, and it should be embraced -- a lesson that I very much view as a gift. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Although my son isn’t here to give me a special hand-crafted bobble to place on my desk, or a beautifully colored picture to hang on my refrigerator, he continues to bless my heart and give to me in so many ways. His life has helped shape who I currently am as a person and continues to influence who I will become. This Mother’s Day, I am going to be thankful for the many gifts my son has given me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">If you are a bereaved mother, I hope this Mother’s Day will be gentle for you. I encourage you to look for some special gifts that your little one has given you. I hope you are able to find something amazing. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOCZTr-ttvYSVCshbniVnY819R3Di7ZtgI2eaHkpG634pRzulO39jHg3HjerPYaaTZRHudLT_GuZYaKDhDQNWTv9tjVrw1qsCqAuO21AWOfQOh0LNcqXGKgCLZ7-ImhiGFto5serdeQ5U/s1600/received_590736997835.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #e8929d; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOCZTr-ttvYSVCshbniVnY819R3Di7ZtgI2eaHkpG634pRzulO39jHg3HjerPYaaTZRHudLT_GuZYaKDhDQNWTv9tjVrw1qsCqAuO21AWOfQOh0LNcqXGKgCLZ7-ImhiGFto5serdeQ5U/s1600/received_590736997835.jpeg" style="border: 0px dotted rgb(59, 19, 16);" width="133" /></a><span style="color: #6b6b6b; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 23.92px; white-space: normal;"><strong style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.59px;">Bethany Conkel</strong><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.59px;"> lives in </span><st1:state style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.59px;" w:st="on">Ohio</st1:state><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.59px;"> and is married to her wonderful husband, Eric. She is the mommy to two amazing children – one who is in heaven, the other here on earth. </span><st1:city style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.59px;" w:st="on">Bethany </st1:city><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.59px;">carried her precious son, Amalya Nathaniel (meaning: “work of the Lord”, “given by God”) to term after receiving the diagnosis of anencephaly when she was 11 weeks pregnant. Amalya lived for 1 hour and 20 minutes before taking hold of the Lord’s hand. After he passed, his liver, pancreas, and whole body were donated to scientific research. </span><st1:city style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.59px;" w:st="on">Bethany</st1:city><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.59px;"> has since created a website about neonatal organ, tissue, and whole body donation called </span></span><a href="http://purposefulgift.com/" style="color: #e8929d; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.59px; text-decoration: none; white-space: normal;">Purposeful Gift</a><span style="color: #6b6b6b; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.59px; white-space: normal;"> to help other families explore the option of donation. She is also a certified Birth and Bereavement Doula through </span><a href="http://www.stillbirthday.com/" style="color: #e8929d; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.59px; text-decoration: none; white-space: normal;">Stillbirthday.com</a><span style="color: #6b6b6b; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.59px; white-space: normal;"> and serves with </span><a href="http://sufficientgraceministries.org/" style="color: #e8929d; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.59px; text-decoration: none; white-space: normal;">Sufficient Grace Ministries</a><span style="color: #6b6b6b; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.59px; white-space: normal;">.</span></div>
RaeAnne Fredricksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01407539790552958900noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6618043027777126173.post-47716888627753438192016-03-03T06:25:00.000-06:002016-03-03T06:25:06.982-06:00Angel Bear Blankets<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">by <a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/search/label/Christine%20Russo" target="_blank">Christine Russo</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">While my husband and I were carrying Gianna, we had so many people support us. Strangers were coming to our aid alongside family and friends. Among those supporters were the amazing women of the shawl ministry at St. Patrick's Church in Scottsdale, Arizona.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The shawl ministry is a "group of compassionate knitters and crocheters who are dedicated to providing a tangible sign of the community's prayerful support of you in your time of need. The shawl maker begins with prayers and blessings for the recipient and these intentions are continued throughout the creation of the shawl. Upon completion, a final blessing is offered before the shawl is sent on its way."</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqDIR59AhUB3CG5ogU_RdTBjt3PHNkxQWPbKx_9GchEVq7SVvKnjpiGGo26UF9NIM3B9at0pyxTK0UaASLQjUIlH-_tXReAer8LVI-dgI_0-WehmaBwI2an3KDBQVPhdvIdrXyab8CYnY/s1600/blankets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqDIR59AhUB3CG5ogU_RdTBjt3PHNkxQWPbKx_9GchEVq7SVvKnjpiGGo26UF9NIM3B9at0pyxTK0UaASLQjUIlH-_tXReAer8LVI-dgI_0-WehmaBwI2an3KDBQVPhdvIdrXyab8CYnY/s400/blankets.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Our first shawl we received was purple (now Gianna's color) and had this note attached to it, "As you are covered with this cloak of comfort, blessings of love and healing are entwined. May you feel, through this shawl the warmth of your God's loving embrace." We received it when the pastor at the church anointed us while carrying Gianna. It was a beautiful, private ceremony with only close family present. The second one was a blanket, a beautiful white blanket with sparkles given to us in a kit with what we would need for my husband to baptize our daughter (she was stillborn). Both are two things that have touched Gianna and now remain incredible memento's of her brief existence. We even swaddled her teddy bear urn with the shawl for months after her death. It was incredibly comforting to smell her on the blanket while holding her bear.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My family goes to this church, but my husband and I were not members at the time. I was recently invited to speak to the group about our whole story (they were only told bits and pieces). I was surprised as how hard it was for me leading up to it. I've written and thought about aspects of her story for what feels like a million times, so why was going through her story from beginning to now so hard for me?! Maybe because G was larger than life? Maybe because in her short time here she touched countless lives (and her legacy CONTINUES to touch lives)? All of our children leave such beautiful legacy's and touch more lives than we all realize.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The women were so touched that they donated several beautiful shawls to me in Gianna's honor to pass on. So that's where you all come in. All of you amazing mama's carrying your precious child, I want to give you this gift from Gianna. A gift that was so lovingly sewn together to give you strength and comfort. Please contact me through the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/angelbearGianna/" target="_blank">Facebook page</a> I created in her honor. If you are currently carrying your child with a fatal diagnosis and I'll send you one💜💜💜.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You are not alone. You do not have to go through this momentous loss by yourself. Let this shawl be a reminder of that. Wrap it around you and feel the strength wash over your body. Feel the prayers, thoughts, and love envelope you while you walk through the impossible. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You are one incredible mama 💜.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;"><strong>Christine Russo</strong></span><span style="font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;"> is a wife to an amazing, supportive husband, and a mommy to Angel Gianna Marie, and her little brother, Romeo. She carried Gianna after receiving a fatal diagnosis halfway into her pregnancy. Through the love and spirit of their special daughter, who means the world to them, they wish to help support other families who have to say goodbye to a piece of their heart.</span></span></div>
RaeAnne Fredricksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01407539790552958900noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6618043027777126173.post-24237719766713959382016-02-25T00:00:00.000-06:002016-02-25T00:00:21.216-06:00After the Diagnosis: A Love Letter<b>To The Mother Who’s Learned Her Baby Won’t Live</b><br />
<b>(<i>Advice From Carry-to-Birth Families</i>)</b><br />
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There are few days as vivid as the day a doctor tells you that your baby will likely not live outside your body. The colors of the room, the smell of the hospital soap on your hands when you bring them to your face, the sound of a phone ringing down the hall, the crack in his voice when he says, <i>“I’m so sorry”</i>, the way every specialist in the room has a face that just blurs through your tears.<br />
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In a perfect world, these would be our worst days… just the agony we feel when the probable outcome- a prognosis of death- has been put on the table.<br />
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But this world is not perfect and so, for many of us, our worst days do find themselves taking place simultaneously with our best days- the days our very loved but sick children are born.<br />
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As women who have been in your shoes, and as a part of the majority whose babies with fatal diagnosis do leave us, we want to share our hearts with you.<br />
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First of all, we are sorry.<br />
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We don’t want you to be here.<br />
We don’t want anyone to ever have to walk the path of child loss, and we pray for an end to all terminal birth defects.<br />
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But since you are here, we are with you. Our hearts break with you. We will love and cherish your child with you.<br />
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We will walk beside you in your anticipatory grief. We will rejoice with you when your baby arrives in your arms. We will mourn with you when you have to say goodbye.<br />
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And we will be here in the sacred dance of pain and joy that follows. We are a community of sister-mamas that have nothing but open arms for you as you walk this unimaginable path. That’s all that love can do- love for our babies creates this tight knit group of people that can relate and love on each other.<br />
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•<i>Take one moment at a time. Try to feel and treasure the kicks and movements when your baby is in the comfort of the womb. Don't be afraid to plan for the possibility of your baby coming home ... even though my son didn't make it home, having baby things in the house after he passed was actually comforting.</i> – Aileen<br />
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•<i>Make memories with your baby. Some ideas are to keep a journal of your pregnancy, see a favorite sports team together, or take maternity photos. When I met my daughter, I remember thinking that every second of heartbreak over her condition was worth bringing her into the world, and I continue to be amazed by the way that she continues to inspire and change lives.</i> - Kristina<br />
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•<i>If you want to pray for the best, pray, have others pray over you. It's okay not to tell strangers your little ones diagnosis and just find joy in being the regular pregnant lady. It's okay to have a shower and let friends love you. Your spouse may have a different approach, that's okay. I was told to terminate and that NO ONE EVER carries to term with this diagnosis, not true because I did. It’s okay to be scared. It's okay to hold your baby after they've passed and its okay to stop holding them soon after. You will find the strength to do what's right for your situation in the moment. Talk to the Lord, and meditate on the scriptures that speak to you. Listen to worship music. Finally, see a counselor type now and through the first year after</i>. –Bethany<br />
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•<i>No child is defined by his or her diagnosis. Make memories of your journey while you carry your child</i>. – Jenna<br />
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•<i>Be hopeful for a "miracle ", but also be prepared for a miracle of different sorts. Make a list of the all the things you want to have; to do; to sing/read, and all the ways you want to connect. Then, do them (alive or having had passed). Buy duplicates of everything. Let people help you</i>. – Kristin<br />
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•<i>Enjoy every minute you have with your little one. Even if they are gone you will never get this opportunity again. Hold them, cuddle them, kiss them, dress them how you feel like. Your little one is more than their diagnosis.</i> – Brittany<br />
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•<i>Hope is what gets me through this time. But I also have to be realistic</i>. -Emily<br />
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•<i>Some may think a miracle didn’t happen for my family, but it did. My son was and is the miracle. Because even in death his life continues to manifest such power and such hope. The lives he has touched, the impact he has left — it is all pretty miraculous to me. How one tiny little baby, who never took a breath, could reach the hearts of others and speak to them in a hundred different ways is nothing short of a miracle. Not exactly the miracle everyone had in mind. But I now know there are different kinds of miracles. Little ones that present themselves in unexpected ways. We just have to be able to see them through the disappointment of not getting the miracle we wanted more. I had to rid myself of the false idea that miracles only come in grand gestures of divine intervention. Because sometimes miracles dwell even where there are crushed hopes and dreams, and those are the ones that are so incredibly hard to see.</i> - Jessi<br />
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•<i>One of the "gifts" of receiving our diagnosis when we do is to be able to make memories with our child and to savor every moment. I know that looks so different for so many. For me it was cherishing her kicks, making her lots of hats and picking out special outfits and blankets. It was learning to be 100% present in the moment because I had no idea if we had a tomorrow. My diagnosis day is still the hardest and worst day of my life, I am still grateful for it because it gave me 5 1/2 months to cherish moments I might have looked over</i>. – Kellie<br />
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•<i>You are amazing for walking this path. Truly courageous. Cry when you need, and remember your baby is here with you now. It's not over yet.</i> <i>Focus on loving your baby with all your efforts. In the end, you'll know you did everything a mama can do</i>.<i> And I promise, saying hello will be the best day of your life. </i>- RaeAnne<br />
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•<i>In the midst of it, you can choose to find the minutes of beauty, while simultaneously cursing the injustice. </i>– Sarah<br />
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•<i>You are brave. You are doing a brave thing. When people tell you that, they mean it. It takes courage… and well, you have it. Give yourself the most grace, and extend it to everyone around you. They won’t understand unless they’ve been here. It’s good that they don’t know. Just smile and nod and then do whatever feels right for you, moment by moment</i>. – Megan<br />
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We want you to feel loved and supported. We want you to vent to us, to share your joy with us, to laugh and cry and smile and frown with us because we will do it with you too.<br />
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Perhaps you are feeling overwhelmed mostly at this moment. <a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/p/resources.html" target="_blank">Here is a link</a> to many wonderful resources for you- just the tip of the iceberg. If there is something specific you are looking for and can’t find it, we will be happy to help.<br />
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Welcome, Mama. We are the mothers who have gone before you and will go after you. May you feel the warmth of our arms wrapped around you. You are not alone.<br />
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We are so sorry that you’re here… but we will love, honor, and remember your precious child with you.<br />
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<a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/allthatlovecando/" target="_blank">Please join us in the private group</a> for mothers who continue pregnancy after a fatal diagnosis. We are here for you <3<br />
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RaeAnne Fredricksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01407539790552958900noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6618043027777126173.post-13007347335632744302016-02-22T00:00:00.000-06:002016-02-22T00:00:04.407-06:00Jesse's Story, by his mamaWritten by <a href="https://www.facebook.com/dcquinones" target="_blank">Diana Quinones</a><br />
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2015 was a hard year for me. I lost my father in January 2015, when he unfortunately lost his battle with cancer. However during that time I was watching him wither away, I discovered I was pregnant. This was my little glimmer of hope, something I was so happy about. As my father was lying on his death bed, I whispered into his ear, “Your going to be a grandfather again.” He opened his eyes, lifted his eyebrows whispered, “I love you.” 24 hours later he was gone.<br />
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All of my family members were ecstatic about our baby news. This was our peace during the storm of my father’s death. My husband and I were expecting our first baby! We couldn’t be any happier during the grief of my father leaving this earth. I had my first check up on February. I was indeed pregnant given the due date of September 18th, 2015.<br />
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Everything was going fine. Every appointment I heard the heartbeat, every appointment I looked forward to, just to see my baby grow. Until my last appoint in May. This is when my world came crashing down. My glimmer of hope was flickering.<br />
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My midwife came in with the results of my anatomy scan. I was about 22 weeks pregnant. She had a concerned look on her face. She told me they found an anomaly, and she wanted me to see the fetal specialist. I was experiencing this all on my own. In a different state from my family, but thankfully my in-laws lived in Los Angeles, two hours from San Diego where I was living at the time. I was to stay with them until we figured out what was happening with my baby. I think this was the most dreadful part of my journey, being poked and prodded by doctors as they figure out what is wrong with my baby. I finally got to see my fetal specialist; she began to do an ultrasound for me. She was quiet the entire time; taking pictures, stilling images, listening to his heartbeat. This had to have been the longest day of my life. She began showing me what she was looking at. My son had a neural tube defect, an encephalocele. His cerebellum was growing outside of his skull, the words, “not compatible with life after being born,” were mentioned, and they wondered if he would even survive the nine months inside of my womb. She also said his heart was not in the right place, I would need to see a fetal cardiologist, however what was concerning was the degree of his encephalocele.<br />
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We learned he would not survive. I was advised to terminate. However in the state of California termination after 24 weeks is not possible, so I had two weeks to figure out if I wanted to keep my baby or carry him to term, despite the prognosis. I had to tell my husband the sad news via email, as he was somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. He was devastated. I then saw the fetal cardiologist. Even more bad news, my baby had a diaphramic hernia, he was also diagnosed with DORV (Double Outlet Right Ventricle). Which basically meant his little body would have to undergo tons of heart surgeries right after birth. However, his cardiologist said he wouldn’t even be able to undergo surgery with the severity of his encephalocele. It was just one horrible diagnosis. One right after the other.<br />
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Our families were devastated. My mother had a peace and calm reaction. She is such a strong woman of God. She had the most calming words to me. She said, “Everything is God’s will, you are a woman of faith! You know in your heart you cannot terminate this pregnancy. If he survives, he survives, and if he goes to heaven, you will see him again someday. He has his grandpa with him.”<br />
My husband and I decided I would carry to term, despite the prognosis. I would stay with my in-laws until September; my husband would be home at that time anyways. We prayed for a miracle.<br />
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Those four months were the happiest and saddest times of my life. My baby grew inside of me. He kicked and moved. Whenever I wouldn’t feel him, I would be scared. “Is he gone?” “Did he die inside of me?” But then he would punch or kick me, letting me know, “No-mama, I am still her.” I could then breathe again. My belly got bigger, he measure smaller than normal due to his neural tube defect.<br />
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My family came to visit me, we had full days on the beach with my baby inside of me. We were enjoying our time with him, no matter what the doctors said.<br />
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Doctors ran all sorts of genetic testing. However everything came back normal, this wasn’t a genetic disorder; they said it was a “strike of lightening.” Why did God choose me for this “strike?” “What did I do to have my baby this way?” I am still asking these questions to this day.<br />
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September rolled along; my husband flew back to California to be with me; to be my rock during the birth of our son. I was to be induced. I was in labor for about 48 hours. My son came at 10:30 at night on September 5th, 2015. He was born not breathing. It was a stillbirth. They swaddled him. I got to hold him, everyone in my family held him, and what broke my heart the most was seeing the tears in my husband’s eyes. The heartbreak. Here he was saying hello and goodbye to his little boy. Our son.<br />
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I held him tight, exploring every little piece of his body, drinking him in. I didn’t want to forget any inch of him. He had his father’s cheeks, a head full of curly black hair, his appearance looked so peaceful. To me there wasn’t any bit of defect; his was perfect in my eyes. He was mine. I think September 5th will always be a day of happiness and sadness for me. It is a day that will forever be in my heart. The day I died, and the day that I also came alive.<br />
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My husband and I decided we would live for our son. Live life for the life he was denied. Every step we would take would be for him. I now know why God gave this to me, so I could be a voice and inspiration to women who are going through the same thing. To choose life! Not terminate it. Give your baby a fighting chance, despite what the doctors say. We now are in Japan and we are taking every bit of it in. Exploring its wonders. Letting the world know, <b>Jesse Alberto was here!</b> He may not be on this earth, but he is here! We are living through him. Don’t get me wrong, there are days where all I want to do is curl up a weep. Feel sorry for myself. I look at mothers with their babies, and wonder why that could not have been me. But who am I to question God’s will? I still have life and everyday I pray that he blesses us with a rainbow baby but until then my husband and I have been closer than we have every been, we hold each other’s hands in this pathway through grief. We smile, we cry, we laugh, we pray, but most of all we live. Living for our son, living for Jesse Alberto Castillo.<br />
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Diana Quinones is an educator, and wife to her wonderful husband. They are presently living in Japan enjoying life to the fullest.<br />
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Follow her <a href="https://www.instagram.com/mrscastillo0523/" target="_blank">instagram</a><br />
Follow her <a href="http://sweetbabyangeljesse.blogspot.jp/" target="_blank">blog</a><br />
Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/dcquinones" target="_blank">Q.C. Diana</a><br />
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RaeAnne Fredricksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01407539790552958900noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6618043027777126173.post-13396962526005526792016-02-14T00:00:00.000-06:002016-02-21T22:39:07.892-06:00Love Letters<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The following letters are part of our </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Love Letters series.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">You can learn more <a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/2016/02/2016-love-letters.html" target="_blank">here</a>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">If you didn't get the chance to submit a letter this year, please feel free to leave your love letter in the comments. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We wish all loss families a gentle Valentine's Day, as we miss our little loves. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">To <b>Elliot Kathryn Davis</b>, from <b>Ellie Davis</b></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Dear Elliot, </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />It's been over 10 months since we said hello and goodbye in just a few hours. </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We were so broken that you couldn't stay with us, so many dreams and plans unfulfilled. </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But we know now that you haven't left us for good. We see you in the pink sunrise, in the cardinals that shine in the snow-covered trees, and the many good words our family has done to honor you. </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">You will always be part of our family, sweet love, and we look forward to meeting you again in eternity.<br /><br />Your loving Nana & Papa</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">~ ~ ~</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">To <b>Maeve</b>, from <b>Jess McCormack</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It's dawn, the sun beginning to rise, although hidden behind the grey clouds that are dominating this winter. I am woken abruptly from a hazy dream by your little sister calling from the room next door. I grumble a little, it seems so early and I was quite content lost in my dream. But I am happy too, to hear her sweet voice and to know that some lovely little cuddles await. I open my eyes and reach for the lamp beside my bed. And then, like every morning, my eyes go straight to the picture of you on my wall. My Maeve. I whisper your name into the morning light. My love for you rises up from my soul and finds its place in my eyes, my smile. I feel so grateful to know you, to have carried you, to be able to call you mine. But I miss you so much too. Every morning I feel this avalanche of feelings, of love, of desperate sadness, of a longing like no other, for both the baby you were and the almost-3-year-old you could have become.</span></div>
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Your sister's calls become louder: "mummy, mummy, mummy!". Would you have called for me like that too, Maeve? Sometimes I hear you, even though I know it can't be true.</span></div>
<br /><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I crawl out from under the covers, my feet searching for my slippers, my eyes still on your picture, still breathing in your peaceful face, marvelling again that something so beautiful could have come from me. On the most difficult days, I ask you for help. It seems so backwards and all mixed up, almost unfair of me to ask my baby girl for help. It should be the other way around, me helping you to tie your shoes, to brush your hair, or reach the crayons from the top shelf. It should be me comforting you when you're sad or afraid. But instead it is you who gives me the courage to keep going. I have a mountain to climb without you. I have a mountain to climb because you're no longer here. There are days when I don't know if I can take a single step and others when the path seems more gentle. But every day I feel you with me, my love for you lighting my way, lifting me when I fall and carrying me when I can no longer walk alone. Thank you, baby girl, for being my strength, my courage. Thank you for being the first thing I see each morning, for reminding me what's important and what really matters: love. I love you Maevey, for always <3.</span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">To <b>Orion</b>, from <b>Jill Sakowski</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I miss you so much. Two years ago today you taught me the true meaning of love and motherhood. </span></i></span><i style="line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I felt your body shake with the violence of seizures, I felt your soul slipping away. You died around 2am on Valentine's Day, and all I could do was rub my belly and tell you over and over how much I loved you. How my love would find you wherever you were headed, that I didn't want you to suffer, that if you were ready to go I wanted you to let go and move on, to find peace. I thought the pain of those words might kill me, but it was my job as your mother to ease your pain any way I could. </span></i></div>
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I wasn't ready to say good-bye, and I never will be. </span></i></span></div>
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My love for you over the last two years has spanned the universe, seeking your soul wherever it is dancing now. And I know that you are dancing because I feel it in my heart, like waves of laughter and light reverberating through the stars to reach me here. We are still connected. We are still mother and child. And nothing will ever change that. Oh my sweet boy, I hope you know how cherished you are! </span></i></span></div>
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">With Eternal Love, Mommy</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">~ ~ ~</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms, sans-serif;">To <b>Cassie</b>, from <b>Stacy MacCormack</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms, sans-serif;"><i>To my sweet Cassie, </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms, sans-serif;"><i>It's been a year since Daddy and I learned that you wouldn't be with us for very long, only a few fleeting moments on the "outside" world, or maybe not at all. In May, it will be a year since hello and goodbye at the same time.<br /><br />How I have grown and changed this past year, and all because of you! You have helped me truly appreciate the sacredness and absolute miracle of life in all its forms. Having the opportunity to carry you, Cassie, and honour you has shown me the true meaning of motherhood, which is to love, nurture, and protect to the best of one's ability. I wanted to give you that because it was all I could give and I wanted you to know only love and protection for your entire life. Carry you until God decided it was time was both the easiest and the hardest thin I have ever done. You are the strongest girl I know, and Mummy, Daddy, and big brother E miss you and love you so very much!<br /><br />Love, Mum</i></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">To <b>Marissa Rachael Poznanski</b>, from <b>Elizabeth Poznanski</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Marissa, my love, I thought we had a lifetime to make memories. You were gone too soon. My heart feels shattered; jagged with torment from your loss. My mind still struggles to grasp the reality of it all, and yet, I live it every day and it's all too real. The house reverberates silence without you. Lump in my throat. Tears welling in my eyes. Endless tears, but that's alright because my love for you is endless.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i> I'm sorry for all that you didn't get to do. Your Make-A-Wish was too late...you were gone too soon. I'm so sorry. You should have had more time. It wasn't supposed to turn out this way. You should have had less pain, more joy. It's not fair. Life can be incredibly unfair. Marissa, you had the name of your future bakery chosen: Peace of Cake. You had the name of your future daughters chosen: Isabella Rose and Anneliese Marie. You would have been a fantastic mommy. There will be no children, no wedding where your daddy could walk you down the aisle, no college, and on and on. There was a tearful "honorary" high school graduation during which your big brother courageously walked up to the stage to accept your "honorary" diploma.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>The brief respite we had from the hospital is a time I will always treasure. The Ronald McDonald House was our home then. I called you "Sweet Pea" a lot during those days and you corrected me by saying, "Salty Carrot." You were, after all, a self-proclaimed "Savory Girl" since you much preferred foods such as cheese and other salty things over sweets. The month of May this year will mark four years since you left. My heart senses peace and comfort when I think of you opening your eyes, Heaven-side, free from pain and suffering. Although I am grateful for the peace and comfort, it is such a modicum of relief compared to the searing ache that resides in my soul. My darling firecracker. My beautiful, brave Marissa. Oh, how I love and miss you to Heaven and back. Salty Carrot, you are forever in my heart. <3</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">In loving memory of Marissa Rachael Poznanski, 1996-2012</span></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">To <b>Barri</b>, from <b>Heather Bassham</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What to express to someone who just learned to hear sound? As sound blesses our ears, it points us to the One whose sounds carry our dearest prayers across time and space, Whose words are never destroyed. This Source of life gives me courage to write and to live. I don't know or understand the why of it all, yet I know that miss you, the innocence you were, and, most of all, what you could have been. </span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As I blew bubbles over the rose on the plot of ground in which you rest, I thought of the thousand hopes and dreams that I had for you. A thousand bubbles as fragile and lite as the baby I carried for 12 weeks. I hoped to see you at the end of summer, yet I saw you at the beginning of spring, with small , tight buds soon to smile upon us all and geese flying the heavens. You were not to be our child, but our angel, our brightling encouraging us to do better, be better. The returning warmth of spring leaves an absent scar, but one that we may behold in joy. Daddy, Spencer, and I were glad to know you. </span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Your life brought joy and laughter the world; my blithe pregnancy colored my world with hues that I had never imagined. You were born in February, on a moonless night lit by glowing stars. In the grey garden of my heart there will always be a perfect pink rose radiating the perfect light of my own little star.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Love always, </span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mommy</span></i></span></div>
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RaeAnne Fredricksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01407539790552958900noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6618043027777126173.post-70894897840435919592016-02-02T00:00:00.000-06:002016-02-02T00:00:04.872-06:00My New Friend, Mad<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">by <b><a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/search/label/Megan%20Coker" target="_blank">Megan Cocker</a></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It has been seven months since we held a sweet baby in our arms as she died. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We’re creeping up quickly on Diagnosis Day.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I had a miscarriage this month. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Someone has stolen my daughter’s identity through her remembrance photographs. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This week, I’m awaiting a call from yet another friend to drive to her and hold her hand as she says goodbye to a second child.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Yeah, January has been hell. I think everyone can agree with me on that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But, for some reason, people expect me to be acting/feeling/thinking differently than just plain furious.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It didn’t take this long for outsiders to impose their expectations, but it’s just now starting to get on my nerves. Everything is starting to get on my nerves. Some accused me of being angry and bitter around the birth and death and burial of my daughter and then again just three months after when expressing disappointment in people who were supposed to be supportive… I’m glad those who thought I was angry then cannot see me now. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Now, I do feel angry. I am experiencing a little bitterness.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I fought anger so much in the anticipatory grief and in the days when I had to bury my child and in the times when I felt I needed to serve others and when we packed up and moved again and when I had to watch another friend say goodbye to her baby too and when I didn’t get to dress Eden up for Halloween and when Thanksgiving should have been her five month birthday and when Christmas came and there were no baby presents beneath the tree. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I<b> fought it so hard. </b>Actively rebuking anger, deciding I didn’t have time for anger,foolishly thinking that anger is wrong. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">What I didn’t know and what no one told me is that if you keep skipping the angry feelings, they will come back tenfold. And so now here I am with a year’s worth of anger piling on top of this month’s grief… and it’s a crime to choke the next person that looks at me funny.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Having a coffee date with a friend right before New Year’s Day when I found out I was pregnant again, I confessed to her that I felt resentment creeping in. You know what she told me? She told me to LET IT. Finally, someone said to me that not only is it OK to feel angry, but it’s necessary. She told me how important it is to feel what I need to feel, and allow myself to be vulnerable and honest about who I am, where I am, and what is going on in my heart.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And so when my husband took my hand in the emergency room bed and asked how I was feeling about losing our second child… for the first time since my daughter’s diagnosis, I told him I was mad. And he said, “me, too.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">After that, I have been able to say how mad I am at this whole past year. I have been honest with myself and anyone who would listen in this past month. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When <a href="http://mkcoker.blogspot.com/2016/01/an-open-letter-to-woman-using-my.html" target="_blank">my blog</a> about the woman who faked that the girl in Eden’s pictures was her own baby went viral, I let her know that I’m mad at her.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When I had so many people comment and tell me, “please don’t let anger consume you”, I got mad at them too. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When friends have expressed how much they wish their babies would stop growing and “just stay little forever”, I got mad at them. (Listen, you DO NOT want your children to stop growing.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When they complained about how hard life is with babies, I got mad at them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When they said, “life was meaningless before these kids,” I got mad at them too. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Obviously, parents of living children can’t win with me lately..</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB8CWS8rbZ8xVB8-LMiJWmVaccaoczQw08IMP3a5hMmEomaRpxeYyNELths96NY6MVnxWSYj3Foxnr8cb6puqZOsqP20F2ScTqKYO-k2f7jtR72-HdMmqBbmINuuC83Spw0a-lN4UbWiU/s1600/megan_1.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB8CWS8rbZ8xVB8-LMiJWmVaccaoczQw08IMP3a5hMmEomaRpxeYyNELths96NY6MVnxWSYj3Foxnr8cb6puqZOsqP20F2ScTqKYO-k2f7jtR72-HdMmqBbmINuuC83Spw0a-lN4UbWiU/s640/megan_1.jpe" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When it rained for five days straight I got mad.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When the sun came out I got mad.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When Ryan tried to read my mind I got mad.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When Ryan didn’t read my mind I got mad.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When the radio played happy songs I got mad.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When the radio played sad songs I got mad.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Oh, it has consumed me all right.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And all of it has prepared me to admit to God that I’m mad at him. For others, it may look like a curse and a scream and that’s okay. But for me, it has been a quiet admission, and that is okay too. I have been like a student emailing a ruthless professor about a problem- “Just checking in to let You know that I’m still mad. Is that okay?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And every day, I feel the mercy and receive the email back, “That’s okay. Take your time”.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I have confidence in the stage of grief I’m finally experiencing, but for some reason I still feel the need to justify it to everyone else. It’s in my nature- “this is how I feel if you can accept that, if not I’ll be happy to change for you”.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I’ve noticed that bereaved parents are some of the biggest perpetrators of “You’re feeling sorry for yourself at this point” and “Don’t become THAT woman.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Moms that that have “completed” the grief “cycle” a few times and find themselves not crying anymore believe that since they are 15 years out from their loss, *time must heal all wounds* and so people who lose their children should feel “better” over time… and if they don’t, they’re not working towards “healing” (ugh, why is grief treated like a sickness?). For me, I do believe in healing my heart. And I believe it requires taking my time to feel whatever I want or need to feel. If twenty years from now I’m still angry, I dare someone to try and check me on it. I can almost guarantee that there will be many times in my life that I go back to being angry.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Its bad enough to know that as I type this there will be outsiders who think “she’s being THAT person”, even worse when people who have some idea of how I’m feeling go on and think that too.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I’m just having these normal emotions and normal feelings and expressing them in normal ways but everyone only wants to hear the good, the joyous, and the peaceful.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I’ve gotten “don’t wear that anger label” a few times when expressing my grief in groups of other loss parents. So, I’ve decided that I will not put on a label or a hat of anger. I have never been one to allow myself to be defined by any bad feeling, anyway.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So instead, I’ll introduce my anger as my friend. I’ll call her “Mad”.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She is a redhead and she smokes a lot of cigarettes. She likes to cuss and flips the bird instead of waving. Mad is a little selfish, as she requires a lot of my focus.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I tried to push her away again this time, but like a pile of rocks, she won’t budge until I work through her many layers.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLLG-3ly52mjNYI1xBeFp3FKWqWJN4O8eeg_B5g7K6EmbrYGta076DCxLqKNuIULjrkflxWD4GjlMC87GPc-yN4a-Fa2_TgHW9Bf2XmvRDdMotaDx9YDERZdfKkdCBcysQiKkp1-L9DTQ/s1600/megan_2.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLLG-3ly52mjNYI1xBeFp3FKWqWJN4O8eeg_B5g7K6EmbrYGta076DCxLqKNuIULjrkflxWD4GjlMC87GPc-yN4a-Fa2_TgHW9Bf2XmvRDdMotaDx9YDERZdfKkdCBcysQiKkp1-L9DTQ/s640/megan_2.jpe" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Don’t be confused… when Mad is around, I’m still genuinely happy. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I’m not a huge complainer just because things suck and I’m still pouring praise out of my heart for </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">all the blessings I have. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I’ve also been choosing immediate and intentional forgiveness* inside my anger, and that is one reason I can embrace this stage of grief without letting it take me over. If you learn to accept apologies you won’t receive and not allow the incidents that injure you to dominate your heart, you are free to then find peace with your own Mad. “Just deal with Megan and her Mad today”, as I like to tell myself. She needs more attention than the things that make me mad.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">* I wanted to elaborate. Many people believe that in order to forgive you must forget and say that everything is okay. And that just isn’t the truth. No definition of forgiveness requires us to forget that we are hurt and reconcile and drop our heartbreak forever. Forgiveness is for us, so that the “what” or “who” that hurt us and “why” does not consume our minds and then we can focus on just the truth that we are hurting. *</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Contrary to popular belief, you can still be blessed when your Mad comes. You can still have a joyful heart. I know I do. Yes, I have been hanging out with Mad a lot lately. But she and I agree that life is still good. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTnq4HQ-elN-lB4yFmRlh6_2Jpt1oT89uQIK0MD9xAuFjdzYp4bFyH4XGnps9PM-zozHUFKABxYEKzBkNrMELHJV8wuITyHhENMungKA_KqkKDmT5zsXb2P5QdXVN_Uwy3iZSrOY0JUJk/s1600/megan_3.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I was so upset when Mad finally arrived at my doorstep. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTnq4HQ-elN-lB4yFmRlh6_2Jpt1oT89uQIK0MD9xAuFjdzYp4bFyH4XGnps9PM-zozHUFKABxYEKzBkNrMELHJV8wuITyHhENMungKA_KqkKDmT5zsXb2P5QdXVN_Uwy3iZSrOY0JUJk/s1600/megan_3.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTnq4HQ-elN-lB4yFmRlh6_2Jpt1oT89uQIK0MD9xAuFjdzYp4bFyH4XGnps9PM-zozHUFKABxYEKzBkNrMELHJV8wuITyHhENMungKA_KqkKDmT5zsXb2P5QdXVN_Uwy3iZSrOY0JUJk/s640/megan_3.jpe" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I felt like I lost a fight with myself. I felt like I let my little innocent baby girl that never felt anger down. But that’s not true. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">There is ultimately balance. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I finally allowed Mad to come inside and open a new door of honesty in my heart. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I’m not done with Mad. I’ve got some confronting to do in time with myself, with God, with people who hurt me. Mad is important to this process. If Mad weren’t here, I would keep repressing and delaying all the pain I’ve been unknowingly drowning in that she came just to help me get out of. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She’s only visiting. She isn’t going to live here, because sometimes she will become too much to handle. But she will be welcomed back in anytime in healthy doses.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<b><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Listen, take the time to be angry when you feel you need to.</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></b>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> Don’t worry about what anyone else thinks of your Mad (trust me, they almost ALWAYS think she’s ugly and full of hate and spite). Let me be the one to tell you if you don’t let her in when she knocks, she’ll bust the doorframe down later. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And if anyone tries to check you on your Mad, if anyone even for a second implies that you aren’t entitled to have your Mad pay a visit… call me and mine- she can be real bitch if needed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">~ ~ ~</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdAXS5Q8VReoVaq6CyYc0LyZUcb-FOaoQclxrIUaIKZVUUr-mL7-T7ilcC72pbZ09iTiiMa-31-_n84Kpl28R6B2sYJaCsOT_XnH2jC9PDbVSiOOs1QWdAu8oitpw0HxQw2EH8lMeQg1s/s1600/Megan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #e8929d; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdAXS5Q8VReoVaq6CyYc0LyZUcb-FOaoQclxrIUaIKZVUUr-mL7-T7ilcC72pbZ09iTiiMa-31-_n84Kpl28R6B2sYJaCsOT_XnH2jC9PDbVSiOOs1QWdAu8oitpw0HxQw2EH8lMeQg1s/s200/Megan.jpg" style="border: 0px dotted rgb(59, 19, 16);" width="155" /></a></div>
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<b style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;">Megan Coker</b><span style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;"> carried Eden Olivia to birth in June 2015 after receiving a diagnosis of a severe Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia in the Bilateral form. Eden lived for 40 minutes. Megan is Ryan’s wife and together they follow his Army career. She has found a way to honor Eden’s short life in capturing the beautiful moments of others through starting her photography business, Eden’s Garden Images. Each day has its new challenges for both Megan and Ryan but they are learning to lean on each other through it and work steadily on strengthening their marriage. Megan finds healing through writing about Eden and remembering their beautiful time togethe</span></div>
RaeAnne Fredricksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01407539790552958900noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6618043027777126173.post-59872397313072662892016-02-01T00:00:00.000-06:002016-02-11T19:36:52.407-06:002016 Love Letters<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgETsAoUuZipUTU0tM9ghvEohpR8PezZVFVqS2jWznRZ_pWvkJyVteoQGbHZ28hCtQGSztvxhVk8bnIiNGhDhk-szbBzMznYKa8QYQluKLi2-UzLBhhfuv4lFAZrk8D63vFBw8ZX4vKtkU/s1600/letters+with+pink+flowers.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgETsAoUuZipUTU0tM9ghvEohpR8PezZVFVqS2jWznRZ_pWvkJyVteoQGbHZ28hCtQGSztvxhVk8bnIiNGhDhk-szbBzMznYKa8QYQluKLi2-UzLBhhfuv4lFAZrk8D63vFBw8ZX4vKtkU/s400/letters+with+pink+flowers.png" width="379" /></a></div>
<b style="color: #6b6b6b; font-family: 'century gothic'; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;"><br /></b>
<b style="color: #6b6b6b; font-family: 'century gothic'; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;">Coming soon!</b><br />
<b><br style="background-color: white; color: #6b6b6b; font-family: 'Century Gothic'; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;" /></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #6b6b6b; font-family: "century gothic"; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;">Once again, ATLCD is hosting Love Letters for Valentine's Day! </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #6b6b6b; font-family: "century gothic"; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #6b6b6b; font-family: "century gothic"; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;">This is a beautiful way to honor the sweet baby in your life who is being carried with a fatal diagnosis, or the baby/child who lives in heaven. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #6b6b6b; font-family: "century gothic"; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #6b6b6b; font-family: "century gothic"; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;">Anyone who loves these precious children is welcome to participate!</span><br />
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<strong style="background-color: white; color: #6b6b6b; font-family: 'Century Gothic'; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;">What are Love Letters?</strong><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #6b6b6b; font-family: "century gothic"; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;">A love note written to a very special baby/child who died, or a baby who is being carried with a fatal diagnosis. Simply write a note to this extra special little one, and we'll share it for you! It can be a few words, or several paragraphs. Whatever feels right to you. </span><br />
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<strong style="background-color: white; color: #6b6b6b; font-family: 'Century Gothic'; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;">Who can participate?</strong><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #6b6b6b; font-family: "century gothic"; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;">Mothers, fathers, siblings, grandparents, friends, family, whomever! Anyone who holds a very special baby/child in their heart. </span><br />
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<strong style="background-color: white; color: #6b6b6b; font-family: 'Century Gothic'; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;">What do I do?</strong><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #6b6b6b; font-family: "century gothic"; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;">Take some time to sit down and write a note to the baby/child. What would you like to say to them? It can be simple, "I love you and miss you so much!" or anything more you've been wanting to say. Let this sweet baby know how much he/she is LOVED. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #6b6b6b; font-family: "century gothic"; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;">Send your Love Letter in a private message to the All That Love Can Do Facebook page </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/AllThatLoveCanDo" style="background-color: white; color: #e8929d; font-family: 'Century Gothic'; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">HERE</a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #6b6b6b; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;">starting February 1st. Y</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #6b6b6b; font-family: "century gothic"; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;">ou may include a photos, if you'd like. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #6b6b6b; font-family: "century gothic"; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;">Your letter will be posted on this blog, and the All That Love Can Do Facebook page on February 14th. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #6b6b6b; font-family: "century gothic"; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;">To read letters from last year, click </span><a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/search/label/Love%20Letters" style="background-color: white; color: #e8929d; font-family: 'Century Gothic'; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">HERE</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #6b6b6b; font-family: "century gothic"; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;">. </span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #6b6b6b; font-family: 'Century Gothic'; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #6b6b6b; font-family: "century gothic"; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;">Each baby/child may have multiple letters from anyone who wishes to participate, but only one letter per person, please. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #6b6b6b; font-family: "century gothic"; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;">If you have any question, you can send a message to the All That Love Can Do Facebook page </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/AllThatLoveCanDo" style="background-color: white; color: #e8929d; font-family: 'Century Gothic'; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">HERE</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #6b6b6b; font-family: "century gothic"; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;">.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #6b6b6b; font-family: "century gothic"; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;">We look forward to seeing lots of LOVE <3!</span>RaeAnne Fredricksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01407539790552958900noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6618043027777126173.post-1052252619403116852015-12-16T02:48:00.000-06:002015-12-16T02:48:23.684-06:00Angel Connections<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; line-height: 17.94px; margin-top: 10px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">by <b><a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/search/label/Christine%20Russo" target="_blank">Christine Russo</a></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My family went to get photos done for the holidays and we brought our 'Gianna bear' (our little girl's teddy bear urn) to be a part of the pictures. As we were waiting for our photographer friend to finish up with her session, we saw an adorable family walk up. A husband and wife who was beautifully pregnant, and an absolutely precious toddler. As they came closer I noticed something; they were holding two bears. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Could it be? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">There's a part of me that hoped not as that would mean they've also survived the impossible. It would mean that they too have a piece of their family in heaven that they miss every moment of every day. It means they would know, they would understand. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">'Is that a Molly bear??' she asked me immediately upon walking up. She knew. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So without thought I said 'yes!' (Even though our Gianna bear is an urn and not a Molly bear, I had that understanding of what she meant. Our community is very aware of Molly bears and if you're not familiar, these special bears are made by a bereaved mother to weigh the same as a loss parent's angel). She then proceeded to explain that they had lost twins about a year ago. Two perfect dreams shattered, but never forgotten and always loved. What a chance meeting. I absolutely believe that our angel babies bring us together. I believe that our little miracles coordinate meetings between grieving parents so we can help each other through grief's ever-changing tide. Their little hearts connect us through loss and love like some sort of divine intervention. Maybe our baby's met in the afterlife and decided their parents could help each other somewhere down the line. Maybe. It's a nice thought. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It's amazing how many friends I've met down this broken road. The beautiful souls I've come across did not deserve this, none of us did, but we have each other. Fellow allies on our lifelong journey that will pick us up when we can't see through the fog. We have a special connection, an instant 'bond' of sorts. Because even though each of our loss roads are very different, we all walk in the same direction-toward someday holding our children again. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Our little miracles can give us so much empathy and compassion. Our hearts are opened up with love pouring out for fellow bereaved parents. I've witnessed it. I've experienced it. My fellow loss sisters have provided me the privilege of receiving their kindness when I needed it most. They've donated love from their own mourning that maybe they didn't even feel they had left. This holiday season, try opening your heart to let the love for your child pour out. Let that love flood into everything you do and everyone you meet. Take their breath away with your compassion and kindness. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And if you're not there yet, that's ok. The love of your child pours out even through grief and mourning. Grief can only be cultivated from love and the deep longing we feel for our children is a result of loving with all of ourselves. That love can be meant just for you this year if that's all you can muster. Because self-love is above all else the most important commodity you can gift yourself with this year. You deserve it. Don't be afraid to reach out if you need it though. We all need lifting up at times no matter how fresh or far into this journey you are. Our connections are so incredibly sacred. They are so necessary. They are so cherished. And those connections are made completely out of love <3. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;"><strong>Christine Russo</strong></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.95px; line-height: 23.92px;"> is a wife to an amazing, supportive husband, and a mommy to Angel Gianna Marie, and her little brother, Romeo. She carried Gianna after receiving a fatal diagnosis halfway into her pregnancy. Through the love and spirit of their special daughter, who means the world to them, they wish to help support other families who have to say goodbye to a piece of their heart.</span></div>
RaeAnne Fredricksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01407539790552958900noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6618043027777126173.post-66530587430506523582015-12-13T00:00:00.000-06:002015-12-13T11:20:05.394-06:00The 2015 Twelve Days of Christmas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: start;">The 2015 Twelve Days of Christmas have come to an end. We hope you've found comfort from reading the stories of other families, reassurance in knowing you're not alone, tips for facing this holiday season, and ideas for honoring your child.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Most of all, we hope you know that what you do this year is completely up to you. No one but you gets to decide what's the "right" way to have Christmas/the holidays. Follow your heart and do what you need. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br style="text-align: start;" /><span style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-size: large;">Our heartfelt thanks to the writers for sharing,</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-size: large;"> and to the organizations who helped provide <br />special things for our giveaways.</span></span><br style="text-align: start;" /><br style="text-align: start;" /><span style="text-align: start;">In case you missed any of the 12 Days, here is the <span style="font-size: large;">entire collection</span> in one place</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: small; text-align: start;"><a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/2015/12/12-doc-day-one-jessi-snapp.html" target="_blank">Day One: <b>Jessi Snapp</b></a></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/2015/12/12-doc-day-two-cheli-blasco.html" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7WKTOl2DTx2OBBCyFbXHFdqRZkn4FgDH_CnXZrBznYy83B8bSVHf-xq3WtjFYZlTZrPzIOclNlZcm8pPmUNYv0o0Xy3IJU7fs80ZpG7L6Zas7kh4DtYqNiF5Zz03-G7HOOmaL0IcE0w0/s1600/2_Cheli.jpg" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/2015/12/12-doc-day-two-cheli-blasco.html" target="_blank"><span style="text-align: start;">Day Two: </span><b>Cheli Blasco</b><span style="text-align: start;"><b> </b> - including a tutorial for Holiday Stars</span></a></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/2015/12/12-doc-day-three-alex-hopper.html" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVFaGF2aGIXg2nN0wE3nQpVmR4yAlaMb2k1FqOuGN6DyuIqgWQVkY3TUwWlPr85-UpWbjcLvdU4ZXPhwsAJf2DJk4-_k7KBudkrZbbRw_UkBSBDS3o2Sn16yWe9tb29HrxVIoWDGW68wo/s1600/3_Alex.jpg" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/2015/12/12-doc-day-three-alex-hopper.html" target="_blank">Day Three: <b>Alex Hopper</b></a></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/2015/12/12-doc-day-four-emily-long.html" target="_blank">Day Four: <b style="text-align: start;">Emily Long</b></a></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/2015/12/12-docday-five-larissa-genat.html" target="_blank">Day Five: <b>Larissa Genat</b></a></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/2015/12/12-doc-tutorial-christmas-tree-shadow.html" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5d0oxjTxqcoWz5msy8nneZ9azi74yu6eijawr4pTF9uwQYEAIR2xOe5PoCD5_z0_JpVDNBh1xRP9DVVhfD6LsK86Ne4pqe9v5dlUVmDAbKtyuR4p200adSriH6PSrZCiYHmXEY62ic3g/s1600/5_TreeBox+Tutorial.jpg" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/2015/12/12-doc-tutorial-christmas-tree-shadow.html" target="_blank"><span style="text-align: start;">Tutorial: Christmas Tree Shadow Box, by </span><b>Jenna Gassew</b></a></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/2015/12/12-doc-day-six-samantha-chavez.html" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3quVtWropd_UL_ZuCbRx-yELImW96TMjmMFPzzQOt-nd9W-0_X_NeKbr4Tsg3Zu2CB0jIngdmiEr5pxVcdU4UeQBD_akBoltpDesH-3Bz-OYsSiroasGl6ceNK8WktASbjYTZm9ErHiE/s1600/6_Samantha.jpg" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/2015/12/12-doc-day-six-samantha-chavez.html" target="_blank">Day Six: <b>Samantha Chevez</b></a></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/2015/12/12-doc-day-seven-laurelbox.html" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq-pFuMG6gdbHdAkNqhGf_iBeks3Yd8_7RwKzvN0odil8OwCNh0Ej5n-YHWPQp7AD1COSrZhH6pWfbBF3LtWtARj1Z6RFJ_zeLzzMVIgZZxg68duC5l9ptonKUEdw69jXk5fJWeCpumLo/s1600/7_laurelbox.jpg" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/2015/12/12-doc-day-seven-laurelbox.html" target="_blank">Day Seven: <b>laurelbox</b></a></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/2015/12/12-doc-day-eight-kellie-soper.html" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc7wgnIa2Th_gjb9BW9A3CkjwgOOKSRaJ6BNc6QeLsZHNQXex7p9tpnxKXcawLKl1fIyCmcpShnjZyM0Ke1joD3NDUIrokwtT9__DtaDSS1yvR2iP4NVa8D9lHBFiVoK2_658WxTdUZSU/s1600/8_Kellie.jpg" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/2015/12/12-doc-day-eight-kellie-soper.html" target="_blank">Day Eight: <b>Kellie Soper</b></a></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: start; text-decoration: underline;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/2015/12/12-doc-day-nine-maryjo-carlson.html" target="_blank">Day Nine: <b>MaryJo Carlson</b></a></span></span> </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/2015/12/12-doc-tutorial-holiday-remembrance.html" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiysF4EbF7UPkAIvPXdz92nI2FDKvCDXVviHDD-M56jhKgbQvQu-if17XhYq-mEV_1WIoFt7Cmc34yeUCRW9gwZixhYuHO8m_1I8B3yKPT7kImjEfWCuuez8HWETiG1okfaH1DVGXh0ZA8/s1600/9_Dishes+Tutorial.jpg" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/2015/12/12-doc-tutorial-holiday-remembrance.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: small; text-align: start;">Tutorial: </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="text-align: start;">Holiday Remembrance Dishes</span></span></span></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/2015/12/12-doc-day-ten-kim-jackson.html" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisCfWd-n0CIMhDtKp0k3QIg2mjjdpyUeWqyw5V7HtQav43-PE9RIGf6Am8oLNu6sdW2xxCBfv9lF53dkS-9-gojLOa6s3iXZBmKHcYFG1UY_78ApSN1bEJixLzHyl0OPVUq4w0IHRzKIg/s1600/10_Kim.jpg" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/2015/12/12-doc-day-ten-kim-jackson.html" target="_blank"><span style="text-align: start;">Day Ten: </span><b>Kim Jackson</b> <span style="text-align: start;">- including tutorial for Initial Art</span></a></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/2015/12/12-doc-day-eleven-maureen-schaefer.html" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD2Xlm-espGOE3bvmB3vnKSOuHgKegfHb9q3B9y-4LT2QkuMTcXhGej0boISlN2GoENGMFbybLh8HoTKmG3JXGviGU-UJnToyHnsly6DugkO44cvG2TtCRAaUfWJyd8gwcLC8NQzCXcc0/s1600/11_Maureen.jpg" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: start; text-decoration: underline;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/2015/12/12-doc-day-eleven-maureen-schaefer.html" target="_blank">Day Eleven: <b>Maureen Schaefer</b> </a></span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/2015/12/12-doc-day-twelve-chloe-soleyjarmoir.html" target="_blank">Day Twelve: <b style="background-color: white; color: #6b6b6b; line-height: 23.92px; text-align: justify;">Chloë Sóleyjarmóðir</b></a></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Featuring <span style="font-size: large;">giveaways</span> from:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://luminouslightstudio.com/" target="_blank">Luminous Light Studio</a> - </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://emilyrlong.com/books/" target="_blank">Invisible Mothers</a> - </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/TheStitchStarter?ref=shop_sugg" target="_blank">The Stitch Starter</a> - </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.laurelbox.com/" target="_blank">laurelbox</a> - </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/kmdesign11/" target="_blank">KM Designs</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/onabutterflyswings" target="_blank">On a Butterfly's Wings</a> - </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.lulu.com/shop/kimberly-jackson/two-little-monkeys/paperback/product-22149781.html" target="_blank">Two Little Monkeys</a> - </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://aaronsangelarms.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Aaron's Angel Arms</a> - </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.thesacredseashore.com/" target="_blank">The Sacred Seashore</a></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">On behalf of everyone at <a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">All That Love Can Do</a>, </span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">we wish you peace and healing this holiday season.</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /><br />*If you'd like to connect with other loss families for the holiday season, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">join the private group, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/533659783383203/" target="_blank">HERE</a>. </span></div>
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RaeAnne Fredricksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01407539790552958900noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6618043027777126173.post-76117823711002472582015-12-12T12:00:00.000-06:002015-12-13T11:33:36.049-06:00Day Twelve: Giveaway: Winner!<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This giveaway is now CLOSED. We have a winner!<br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>Nichole Moblo, in memory of Myra</b>, you've </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms, sans-serif;">won the 12 photo package! Please contact us <a href="https://www.facebook.com/AllThatLoveCanDo/" target="_blank">HERE</a> within 24 hours to claim your gift. </span><br /><br />
If you didn't win, you can still order something beautiful for your baby from <a href="https://www.facebook.com/AllThatLoveCanDo/" target="_blank">The Sacred Seashore</a>. This year's holiday photo is only $1!<br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Our twelfth giveaway is open to all baby/child loss families.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Friends and family may enter on behalf of a loss family, but it must go to a family whose child died. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Enter to win <b>a year of</b> <b>custom memorial photographs from <a href="http://www.thesacredseashore.com/" target="_blank">The Sacred Seashore</a></b>!</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH4kEBiqtQs4P1vHW9IEDTMlhuyIawglx2149hSe9VyfuycEH9H9VkR-ZwO7qX5t5RnHS-oIvf0D6NbJQ0jXE3-2HUcwJuKBA7zClWpsn1wy_z8IZZGNq1lB1L10zx9jyj2zEwcjC65bs/s1600/ss.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH4kEBiqtQs4P1vHW9IEDTMlhuyIawglx2149hSe9VyfuycEH9H9VkR-ZwO7qX5t5RnHS-oIvf0D6NbJQ0jXE3-2HUcwJuKBA7zClWpsn1wy_z8IZZGNq1lB1L10zx9jyj2zEwcjC65bs/s640/ss.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The winner will receive 12 photos. One of each photo from the 2015 monthly collection. </span><br />
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<b style="background-color: transparent; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">To Enter:</b></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>You must be the family of a child who died, or entering on behalf of a loss family.</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">1. Like <a href="https://www.facebook.com/AllThatLoveCanDo/" target="_blank">All That Love Can Do</a>, and <a href="https://www.facebook.com/TheSacredShore/" target="_blank">The Sacred Seashore</a> on Facebook.<br />2. Comment below, or on the Facebook post, with your child's name(s), or nickname, and why you'd like to win.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The winner will be randomly selected and announced here and <a href="https://www.facebook.com/AllThatLoveCanDo/" target="_blank">on Facebook</a> on December 13th.<br /><br />Good luck!</span>RaeAnne Fredricksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01407539790552958900noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6618043027777126173.post-39449806870101709252015-12-12T00:00:00.000-06:002015-12-12T10:27:39.559-06:0012 DOC: Day Twelve: Chloë Sóleyjarmóðir<div style="background-color: white;">
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<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">*This post is part of our Twelve Days of Christmas series. You can <a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/search/label/12%20Days%20of%20Christmas" target="_blank">read more here</a>.*</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b><span lang="EN-US">Three Christmases </span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US">by<b> </b></span><b>Chloë Sóleyjarmóðir</b></span><br />
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<b style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US">Christmas Eve 2012</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We're spending the holiday at the family's cottage in Brittany and I'll be 24 in five days. For some reasons, I've always considered this birthday as a special one, a personal deadline of mine. I had promised myself a long time ago that i would be pregnant by then. And now I am! Three months into my first pregnancy, and I'm walking on sunshine, so excited to share my first Christmas with my child. My baby is perfect and I'm feeling fantastic, strong and proud, super confident - because pregnancy loss only happened in the first trimester, right ? I'm safe now, right?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">If I'm a bit nervous, it's only about sharing the good news with my family. I don't want to hurt my uncle and my aunt - they're both in their forties, childless not by choice, and going through an uncertain adoption process, so i don't want to rub my happiness in their faces. But to be honest i don't feel guilty, either. I remember looking at them thinking - it's not like they really <i>need</i> children anyway. They're so happy already, so in love with each other, and they have such an exciting life, full of adventures, love and music !</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US">I realize now that my reaction said much more about me than about them. I will never know if </span>they secretly mourned the children they never had, or if their lives were truly full - but i know mine was empty. I had been dreaming about becoming a mother for the past ten years, feeling like my whole life was nothing but a path leading to that specific baby. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Six months later, on the day my daughter was born, I felt relieved - saved, even - and I thought, no matter what happens now, I will always have my baby.</span><br />
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<b style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US">Christmas Eve 2013</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We're spending the holiday at the hospital and I'll be 25 in five days. Soley has been diagnosed with a brain tumor just three months ago. My friend who lives nearby lent us her apartment for the evening, so my parents and siblings could spend some times with us for Christmas. We take turns at Soley's bedside - she has been in pain since her last surgery last week, and we just started high dose chemo today.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am exhausted, desperate, broken. This is definitely not the first Christmas I had planned for her. I couldn’t even find her a Santa Claus costume - for some reason, this tiny detail is sad. When I finally leave her with someone else to run to the apartment, I realize no one really planned the meal and there's not much to eat. Everyone is blaming each other for the fiasco. <i>"It's not my fault",</i> my little sister justifies herself. <i>"I told you I was going to cook tomorrow's meal."</i> I throw her a dirty passive-aggressive look. Yeah, nice to know that you'll all enjoy a nice meal tomorrow, while I'll be eating hospital food all alone. I'm disappointed and angry, mostly because I was hoping for some kind of Christmas truce. But there's no truce in cancer world.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The day after Christmas, Soley stops breathing and a very stressed medical team has to ventilate her. I ask if she is dying and for the first time, they don't say no. When they figure out she is having an intolerance to morphine, they push an antidote and she gets better by the hour. She sleeps through the whole afternoon, and most of the night. When she finally wakes up at <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_1193748306" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; position: relative; top: -2px; z-index: 0;" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ" style="position: relative; top: 2px; z-index: -1;">4 am</span></span>, she looks fine and we play for a whole hour. It's like our own Christmas in the middle night.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The same day, the little boy in the room next to ours dies.</span><br />
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<b style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US">Christmas Eve 2014</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We're back to the cottage in Brittany and I'll be 26 in five days. Soley is not with us - she died seven months ago. But my uncle and my aunt are there. At about the same time my daughter was transferred to palliative care, their adoption process went through and they flew to South America to pick up two children. A little boy and a little girl, now running around the house, tearing their gifts paper. My head is spinning. I feel like the universe is mocking me, like I'm the butt of some sick joke. I can hear the voices in my head - </span><i style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif;">"So you thought they didn't need children, hum? What about you? How bad do you need yours now?" </i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So, so bad. So bad I can't breath.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The house is full of people but I've never felt so lonely. My uncle complains about his issues at work, the conversation goes on for hours and I feel like screaming. <i>Are you f***ing kidding me?? My baby died! My baby is dead! Who cares about your stupid problems!</i> But the world keeps on turning, like nothing happened.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I know it's not their fault, it's not even about them, really. I know they're doing their best. I can't say my family isn't supportive. They made a collage using Soley's pictures with their new children. My other aunt isn't afraid to ask questions about Soley, giving me the most precious gift: a space to talk about her. My little cousin even helps with the flying lantern release in her honor. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIsSR2H_t-vUskad36PPrYnoSvdG4sNFOrh1V7EBZlJZwIQ3oxURZCngDW4WgZKynpLFhi10vtL_F37MpL9qX4si3OU8tE84s1jlLZcHGgzeKg1W79QTRUKFgPUYvf9cu_7YtYRHM2pEs/s1600/received_10153847035919198.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIsSR2H_t-vUskad36PPrYnoSvdG4sNFOrh1V7EBZlJZwIQ3oxURZCngDW4WgZKynpLFhi10vtL_F37MpL9qX4si3OU8tE84s1jlLZcHGgzeKg1W79QTRUKFgPUYvf9cu_7YtYRHM2pEs/s640/received_10153847035919198.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Writing notes on our Soley paper lantern </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Yeah, I know they're doing their best. But their best is not enough. Nothing could be enough to ease this burning pain on Christmas eve. They got their Christmas miracle. I didn't. In the end, that's all there is to say. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b style="text-align: justify;">If this is your first Christmas after loss, here are my suggestions : Be gentle with yourself. Being around children, or just being around people, can be extra hard during the holidays. I know I shouldn't have put myself through it. </b><b>Don’t fake the joy and the gratitude if you can’t find them in your heart. No one can expect this from you - not even yourself. </b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXkjGTlsj7Vp89uiAF2vVaSY62r1xCdw454I9e7KOpGWhkpgXshiZqmtbPvj480HjWbJG-B4lxEfpeSuO9YiOOp0wDxkmIoB-QdwOXIo_cnYqDCpSv0vDyPTNIAFeFxY3lQDgSv1wpORE/s1600/Chloe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXkjGTlsj7Vp89uiAF2vVaSY62r1xCdw454I9e7KOpGWhkpgXshiZqmtbPvj480HjWbJG-B4lxEfpeSuO9YiOOp0wDxkmIoB-QdwOXIo_cnYqDCpSv0vDyPTNIAFeFxY3lQDgSv1wpORE/s200/Chloe.jpg" width="200" /></a><b><span style="line-height: 21px;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Chloë </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 21px;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Sóleyjarmóðir</span></span></b><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 21px;"> is 26, and a high school teacher. But before anything else, she's Soley's mom. Soley was diagnosed at age 3 months with an aggressive kind of brain cancer called ATRT. She showed an amazing fight through months of hospital and chemotherapy, but treatment was ineffective and she died at 11 months. Soley is her only baby, and remains her whole world. You can read about her story on her blog, <a href="http://aboutholland.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Our Time in Cancer World</a>. She also writes for <a href="http://www.stillmothers.com/" target="_blank">Still Mothers</a>. </span></div>
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RaeAnne Fredricksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01407539790552958900noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6618043027777126173.post-19707666319030835462015-12-11T12:00:00.000-06:002015-12-12T12:19:35.835-06:00Day Eleven: Giveaway: Winner!<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This giveaway is now CLOSED. We have a winner!</span><br />
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</b><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>Angela Nail, for her husband, in memory of her twins, Jack and Alice</b>, has won! Angela, please contact us HERE within 24 hours to claim your gift.<br /><br />And, if you didn't win, you can still purchase something special from <b><a href="http://aaronsangelarms.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Aaron's Angel Arms</a></b>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Our eleventh giveaway is open to all baby/child loss families in the U.S.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Friends and family may enter on behalf of a loss family, but it must go to a family whose child died. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Enter to win a custom gift from <b>Aaron's Angel Arms!</b></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmxCAc4v3sk9HEUr0_Tc1eTK7uH9n4abemV42cexWO9Wy-llIoLl2NnkYs5uUrIk63DMfEGG9m0iENQioxu03Ox8U4TNUM8tCVpuS_lw06mP-apWS-rVqVFjXYu_Ar5eVrvGEaQVF6JLo/s1600/aaa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmxCAc4v3sk9HEUr0_Tc1eTK7uH9n4abemV42cexWO9Wy-llIoLl2NnkYs5uUrIk63DMfEGG9m0iENQioxu03Ox8U4TNUM8tCVpuS_lw06mP-apWS-rVqVFjXYu_Ar5eVrvGEaQVF6JLo/s400/aaa.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b><br /></b>The winner can chose any item with up to three charms!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Learn more and see options at <a href="http://aaronsangelarms.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Aaron's Angel Arms</a>.</span><br />
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<b style="background-color: transparent; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">To Enter:</b></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>You must be the family of a child who died, or entering on behalf of a loss family, in the U.S. </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">1. Like <a href="https://www.facebook.com/AllThatLoveCanDo/" target="_blank">All That Love Can Do</a> and <a href="https://www.facebook.com/AaronsAngelArms/" target="_blank">Aaron's Angel Arms</a> on Facebook.<br />2. Comment below, or on the Facebook post, with your child's name(s), or nickname, and why you'd like to win.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The winner will be randomly selected and announced here and <a href="https://www.facebook.com/AllThatLoveCanDo/" target="_blank">on Facebook</a> on December 12th.<br /><br />Good luck!</span></span>RaeAnne Fredricksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01407539790552958900noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6618043027777126173.post-85326439690640971112015-12-11T00:00:00.000-06:002015-12-11T00:00:05.453-06:0012 DOC: Day Eleven: Maureen Schaefer<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">*This post is part of our Twelve Days of Christmas series. You can <a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/search/label/12%20Days%20of%20Christmas" target="_blank">read more here</a>.*</span></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPgwdGRWJkWDbndlkA7ptRVL0U8KZOoxZ9BvMbyp6rFnOI-67Xap8zw8EtbAqMGqqqoLWQoCLLCVg7Zju-S7AcuaW1SOQd4CcbleTgBgwdb4TIJSSROCm7o5f1-kCQ4KjVtV_sBgiq3nQ/s1600/12+doc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="520" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPgwdGRWJkWDbndlkA7ptRVL0U8KZOoxZ9BvMbyp6rFnOI-67Xap8zw8EtbAqMGqqqoLWQoCLLCVg7Zju-S7AcuaW1SOQd4CcbleTgBgwdb4TIJSSROCm7o5f1-kCQ4KjVtV_sBgiq3nQ/s640/12+doc.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">by Maureen Schaefer</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Holidays are supposed to be a special time of joy, remembrance, family, faith, and fun. Holidays as a bereaved parent,though, can be just the opposite; grief filled, with faith hard to find, little fun, and a constant reminder that our children are gone. The focus is so much on family and togetherness, but every fiber of our being is crying out that part of our family is missing. The rest of the world wants to just carry on with their normal celebrations but that feels incredibly wrong to us. How can they celebrate while our hearts are crushed? Worse, how can they expect us to join them in their celebrations?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Especially if this is your first holiday season after loss, I encourage you to remove the word “should” from your vocabulary. No, you should not feel obligated to go to the huge multi-generational gathering at Great Aunt Ida’s where there will be 100 screaming infants. No, you should not think you have to do every tradition that you have done in years past. No, you should not have to go to midnight </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">mass surrounded by happy families looking like they just stepped out of their Christmas card. Please don’t let anyone else pile expectations on you and how you should spend the holidays this year.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">This year, of all years, give yourself permission to make no obligations but to just decide your plans in the moment. Truthfully, you don’t know how you will feel at the big family gathering. It may turn into a source of strength and support, if your family is particularly empathetic and you are in a place to receive it. But it also carries the risk of having serious damage done in your family relationships when some unthinking relative asks if you are “over it” yet. I am not saying that you absolutely should stay home; it's not my place to tell you what you should do either. But I would suggest that you only give “maybe” as an answer about your attendance to any event and only consider attending events that are local so that you can quickly make an escape back to home if the event proves to be too much.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">The holidays may trigger your grief in unexpected ways. Your favorite Christmas classic movie may suddenly turn into a crying fest when the thought crosses your mind that you won’t be sharing this movie with your son. Or the Christmas cookies may suddenly taste like salty tears as the idea of never getting to bake them with your daughter won’t leave your mind. It is impossible to predict everything that will bring your grief rising to the surface. Please try to let yourself feel those moments; suppressing your grief will only make it worse.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Incorporating your child into your holidays can bring comfort and help you do some intentional grieving. There are craft ideas in the previous year's articles and new ones shared this year. You might consider making ornaments for the tree that honor your child or making a stocking for your child. However, if you find the actual doing of these projects is too much for you this year, then maybe just save a favorite idea for completing next year.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Give yourself grace to live in the moment this holiday season and do what will nurture you. If you need to avoid all things Christmas, that's okay! Share that need with your spouse so that you can make a plan together. At our house, I’m planning a Star Wars marathon so I can avoid all the sappy commercials on TV but will still make my husband the traditional meal that he wants. This is our first year staying home but I am looking forward to not having to be "on" for a family gathering. If you can make new traditions for just you and your spouse, then that’s even better so that it can draw you closer together.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Know that you are not alone; we grieve with you this holiday season.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinrqEQSpoo_DYEtaj_8LTPlLgrz-Tsa7uLn62VEqqKkjUnTmm9-dDopq038jlrp5gf1sH4LNMOyWtZIk7jojZ4vNWMDcr-zTFFnxYdm5fFkJTWojRM2nXGfV8ycglwA8ZNgx8uMnzeouI/s1600/maureen_bio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinrqEQSpoo_DYEtaj_8LTPlLgrz-Tsa7uLn62VEqqKkjUnTmm9-dDopq038jlrp5gf1sH4LNMOyWtZIk7jojZ4vNWMDcr-zTFFnxYdm5fFkJTWojRM2nXGfV8ycglwA8ZNgx8uMnzeouI/s200/maureen_bio.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><strong style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; color: #8c8b8b; line-height: 27.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Maureen Schaefer</strong><span style="background-color: white; color: #8c8b8b; line-height: 27.2px;"> (known as Reen to her online friends) has been married to her husband since March of 2011. They started trying to add to their family shortly after the wedding but soon found themselves batting infertility and recurrent miscarriage. Maureen found information and solidarity in her online support groups and eventually began to help moderate a group for those pursuing advanced methods of trying to conceive. She also co-founded a group for those actively trying to conceive who have experienced two or more pregnancy losses or babies born still. Now, after five pregnancy losses, Maureen is coming to terms with living a childless life. She writes for <a href="http://www.stillmothers.com/" target="_blank">Still Mothers</a>. Join her on BabyCenter: </span><a href="http://community.babycenter.com/groups/a6745507/actively_trying_with_repeat_loss" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; color: #43e6e6; line-height: 27.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">Actively Trying with Repeat Loss</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #8c8b8b; line-height: 27.2px;">, and </span><a href="http://community.babycenter.com/groups/a6764014/still_mothers_support_-_living_childless_after_loss" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; color: #43e6e6; line-height: 27.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">Still Mothers – Living Childless after Loss</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #8c8b8b; line-height: 27.2px;">.</span></span></div>
RaeAnne Fredricksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01407539790552958900noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6618043027777126173.post-27634960228909612592015-12-10T10:00:00.000-06:002015-12-11T12:35:22.582-06:00Day Ten: Giveaway: Winner!<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This giveaway is now CLOSED! We have a winner!<br /><br /><b>Mindy Bausch,</b> you've won the book and initial art! Please contact us <a href="https://www.facebook.com/AllThatLoveCanDo/" target="_blank">HERE</a> within 24 hours to claim your gifts!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Our tenth giveaway is open to all baby/child loss families in the U.S.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Friends and family may enter on behalf of a loss family, but it must go to a family whose child died. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Enter to win a copy of the book, <i style="font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://www.lulu.com/shop/kimberly-jackson/two-little-monkeys/paperback/product-22149781.html" target="_blank">Two Little Monkeys</a>, </i><b>by Kim Jackson!</b><br /><br /><a href="http://www.lulu.com/shop/kimberly-jackson/two-little-monkeys/paperback/product-22149781.html" target="_blank"></a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.lulu.com/shop/kimberly-jackson/two-little-monkeys/paperback/product-22149781.html" target="_blank">Two Little Monkeys</a> is a children's book written about twins. It's about the decision to Carry to Birth after learning one twin will not live, the loss of a baby, and the love that continues after that loss.<br /><br />The person who wins this book, will also receive a special initial painting - in colors of their choice -in memory of his or her child <3</span><br />
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<b style="background-color: transparent; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">To Enter:</b></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>You must be the family of a child who died, or entering on behalf of a loss family, in the U.S. </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">1. Like <a href="https://www.facebook.com/AllThatLoveCanDo/" target="_blank">All That Love Can Do</a> on Facebook.<br />2. Comment below, or on the Facebook post, with your child's name(s), or nickname, and why you'd like to win.<br /><br />**One extra enter for families of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/240740432632150/" target="_blank">Twinless Twins</a>. Just say, "I have Twinless Twins" in your comment.**</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The winner will be randomly selected and announced here and <a href="https://www.facebook.com/AllThatLoveCanDo/" target="_blank">on Facebook</a> on December 11th.<br /><br />Good luck!</span></span>RaeAnne Fredricksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01407539790552958900noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6618043027777126173.post-52285471257340871612015-12-10T00:00:00.000-06:002015-12-10T00:00:14.295-06:0012 DOC: Day Ten: Kim Jackson<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">*This post is part of our Twelve Days of Christmas series. You can <a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/search/label/12%20Days%20of%20Christmas" target="_blank">read more here</a>.*</span></b><br />
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<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">by Kim Jackson</span></b><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 16.3091px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Christmas used to be my favorite time of year. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I loved planning and putting together gifts, watching them get opened and seeing the excitement on my nieces and nephews faces when they opened them. It was amazing. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Two years ago at Christmas I was 34 weeks pregnant with my twins Noah and Tess. I had them both safe with me. But it was the first Christmas I was truly not happy and excited. I knew my time with Tess was drawing to a close, as she had been diagnosed a</span><b style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16.3091px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">t 12 weeks the birth defect Anencephaly. </span></span></b><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; line-height: 16.3091px;">Several well meaning people gave me Christmas gifts for Noah, but there were none for Tess. I don't think that they meant to hurt me, but it was the beginning of pretending she didn't exist, and it shattered my heart. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Two weeks later my babies arrived. Tess fought like hell, and stayed with us for 30 hrs. It was amazing and perfect, but so short. The first 8-9 months were a blur of loving Noah and missing Tess. Then I was doing ok, until December. It all came back and overwhelmed me. I remembered spending that last month at home just feeling every kick and snuggling my babies close. I remembered that feeling of Tess being forgotten before she was even gone. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Halfway through December I decided that she would not be forgotten this year or any other Christmas. At least not in my house. She had a stocking up with all the rest. The stuffed monkey with her heart beat was included in holiday pictures. She had an ornament on our big tree, but I also put up a little one that was all hers in my bedroom. I bought a few things for a baby girl who would be her age and gave them away at the clinic I work at. She was there with us. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It helped, it helped a lot. It did not change the fact that she was not physically there. I still missed her horribly. I still felt like I was faking my way through, and I felt guilty that like so many other milestones in Noah's life, I couldn't be truly completely happy at his first Christmas. But I could breathe, I could function. I could make it a happy Christmas for Noah. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It also showed people in my life that I needed her to be remembered. My sister gave me a beautiful journal to write to Tessie, with a beautiful entry of her own. I am not sure she would have known how perfect that was if I hadn't been so open and insistent in including her in our celebrations. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am sure that through the years Tess will always be part of our traditions. I doubt they will remain exactly the same. I think they will grow with us. When Noah is school age I will prob have him write letters to his twin sister and put them in her stocking for Santa to bring to her. I will get Noah involved in picking a gift for his sister, to donate. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I know Christmas will continue to be difficult, seeing my son enjoy it and missing his sister at that same time. Because Noah and Tess were twins, every milestone reminds me that there is one when there should be two. However, keeping her memory alive seems to help. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This year, I am dreading Christmas a little less than last year. I have a plan to include her. I will continue the things we did last year. She will have a stocking. She will have her tree. She will be represented in our family holiday pictures. I will buy a present or two to donate in her honor. Others may forget her, but she will be with our little family at Christmas, always. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Christmas used to be my favorite time of year. Maybe some day it will be again. For now it enough that I can make it Noah's favorite time of year, and keeping Tess with us.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">~ ~ ~</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Here's an idea for something special you can make in memory of your child. If you have living children, they can make one too! </span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 16.3091px;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Initial paintings</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I made these paintings with my son, niece and nephew to put up in our home. Super simple. They loved it (all under 6). And of course they all helped making one for Tess too, so she was included. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Supplies</i>: plain canvas (we used 8"x12"). Painters tape. Paint, painting implements (paintbrushes, sponges, etc, Noah also used a car that he drove through the the paint on his.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Steps:</i>
Tape the initial out on the canvas. (You can measure and mark first if you want. I just free hand put the initial on with the tape)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 16.3091px;">Give the canvas and paint to the kids and let them go to it!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibRAxtxt0oMl9r_uVps8cVGSh5EtBCsDK8k7DeoiNscXApPyBapcvCB8MySqIDa77gJLyTztgkVXwsBJtwFfAB56kDVdmHTVLhSMRzqbvCLPTxV0oKSUC2yQKIzV953YmoEDoQtuUIVRI/s1600/Kim_Painting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibRAxtxt0oMl9r_uVps8cVGSh5EtBCsDK8k7DeoiNscXApPyBapcvCB8MySqIDa77gJLyTztgkVXwsBJtwFfAB56kDVdmHTVLhSMRzqbvCLPTxV0oKSUC2yQKIzV953YmoEDoQtuUIVRI/s400/Kim_Painting.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 16.3091px;">Let paint dry completely, then remove the tape. (You're done!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">~ ~ ~</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkJx2pkrnuYQXXsRrGE8sYIorFRkQV2q4BmxINPsjFuqq96sHY4uu-x01trwdrJ1m7Z00ogCNleej3tRCp9HFoyWgkHo3cY-wtRCgmcViKbI5s1ihv4sAPRPALcP5Lg3ezN-w9eBdgj1U/s1600/Kim_bio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkJx2pkrnuYQXXsRrGE8sYIorFRkQV2q4BmxINPsjFuqq96sHY4uu-x01trwdrJ1m7Z00ogCNleej3tRCp9HFoyWgkHo3cY-wtRCgmcViKbI5s1ihv4sAPRPALcP5Lg3ezN-w9eBdgj1U/s200/Kim_bio.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></div>
<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; line-height: 16.3091px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">Kim Jackson</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16.3091px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;"> is a pediatrician from Buffalo NY who decided that she was ready to have a baby, despite not finding Mr Right. She had IUI with donor sperm and got pregnant with not just one baby, but two. At 12 weeks she got the devastating news that one of her babies would not live long after birth due to the birth defect anencephaly. Noah and Tess were born 1/13/14. Tess lived for 30 amazing hours and was a beautiful soul. Noah is happy and healthy and sweet little boy. Kim is learning to balance loving Noah and missing Tess. She admins the group <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/240740432632150/" target="_blank">Parents of Twinless Twins</a> on Facebook. She wrote the book, <a href="http://www.lulu.com/shop/kimberly-jackson/two-little-monkeys/paperback/product-22149781.html" target="_blank">Two Little Monkeys</a>. </span></span></b>RaeAnne Fredricksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01407539790552958900noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6618043027777126173.post-51297725256443459162015-12-09T15:42:00.000-06:002015-12-09T15:42:41.962-06:0012 DOC: Tutorial: Holiday Remembrance Dishes<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>*This tutorial is part of the 12 Days of Christmas series. <a href="http://allthatlovecando.blogspot.com/search/label/12%20Days%20of%20Christmas" target="_blank">Read more here.</a></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></b><b><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Holiday Remembrance Dishes Tutorial</span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">By MaryJo Carlson</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; line-height: 17.94px; white-space: pre-wrap;">An easy, inexpensive and fun way to keep our precious babies/grandbabies memory alive at the Christmas table.</span></span><br />
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<li style="color: #141823; line-height: 17.94px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 17.94px;">A porcelain plate and cup - you can find them at any dollar store or WalMart for a very small amount of money. </span></span></li>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy5I-mDFE2kwGOu3rW2_CSTSgM8CCeKfqpYwBXmhZuXe15Zs5eJuEYiuEDatvQBqE4pGjnrIIUrMBDAmR8fRPEG7qB11p6QVIWNVckhDYJr2rHDy_SpUKzmHLVOqRQYWLE_N1CbEf4WXc/s1600/empty_plate+and+cup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy5I-mDFE2kwGOu3rW2_CSTSgM8CCeKfqpYwBXmhZuXe15Zs5eJuEYiuEDatvQBqE4pGjnrIIUrMBDAmR8fRPEG7qB11p6QVIWNVckhDYJr2rHDy_SpUKzmHLVOqRQYWLE_N1CbEf4WXc/s400/empty_plate+and+cup.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.94px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Permanent pens in desired colors. There are many bands out there - any brand works, again any dollar store, WalMart, etc. </span></li>
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<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.94px; white-space: pre-wrap;">A Design - Create your own design or find a design online that you would like to copy. </span></li>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>Steps:</b></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.94px; white-space: pre-wrap;">1. Draw with the permanent pens on the porcelain. Make sure you put their name on it, or something special that reminds you of your them. You can also write a special note to your baby, if you'd like!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwV4pBkVMrbl1U0g3q7JFV7WbY1w-Yh3uy9pgy6u79VenVDMrQIkDHcqhc1nQHRd8BCCZKdOeKfDeIeEjjcFuxsZHzfBiDDWG7C3wDRCF9C23428jYBbaBG_qNihOy1LS5aXw22fGcQjQ/s1600/samuel_note_plate.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwV4pBkVMrbl1U0g3q7JFV7WbY1w-Yh3uy9pgy6u79VenVDMrQIkDHcqhc1nQHRd8BCCZKdOeKfDeIeEjjcFuxsZHzfBiDDWG7C3wDRCF9C23428jYBbaBG_qNihOy1LS5aXw22fGcQjQ/s400/samuel_note_plate.jpe" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.94px; white-space: pre-wrap;">2. Place plate and cup in over and set the temperature for 350 degrees. Once the temperature has reached 350 start timing. Bake for 30 minutes and then turn off oven and leave the plate and cup in until cool. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.94px; white-space: pre-wrap;">3. You're done! Set them at the Christmas table to reserve their memory spot.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.94px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Be sure to read MaryJo's 12 Days of Christmas post, HERE.</span></div>
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RaeAnne Fredricksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01407539790552958900noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6618043027777126173.post-86721875749223557222015-12-09T12:00:00.000-06:002015-12-10T11:45:31.022-06:00Day Nine: Giveaway: Winner!<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This giveaway is now CLOSED. We have a winner!<br /><br /><b>Winnie Fowler Williams, in memory of Campbell</b>, you've won the bracelet! Please contact us <a href="https://www.facebook.com/AllThatLoveCanDo/" target="_blank">HERE</a> within 24 hours to claim your gift.<br /><br />And, if you didn't win, you can order a bracelet for yourself at <a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/onabutterflyswings" target="_blank">On A Butterfly's Wings</a>.<br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">~ ~ ~</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Our ninth giveaway is open to all baby/child loss families in the U.S.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Friends and family may enter on behalf of a loss family, but it must go to a family whose child died. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Enter to win an <b>Endless Love bracelet </b>handcrafted by <a href="http://www.onabutterflyswings.com/" target="_blank">On A Butterfly’s Wings</a>, in memory of their daughter Emma. You can find them online to read their story and mission, as well as their blog, and resources for parents who have lost a baby to stillbirth.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkJ6aplL4h0wAz7PK_z0vRH80YqpN6EelKOhvvPEq7cqQaqBVsw7s8-2n13wIkEIk49ja_hUeuZ8pMHe3iCsh6xHNf0mOHv2rWSogqtjOGivGTsX62kmQrYLfqqPg4mTvOZbEbp_FkJ1Q/s1600/received_501506793358546.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkJ6aplL4h0wAz7PK_z0vRH80YqpN6EelKOhvvPEq7cqQaqBVsw7s8-2n13wIkEIk49ja_hUeuZ8pMHe3iCsh6xHNf0mOHv2rWSogqtjOGivGTsX62kmQrYLfqqPg4mTvOZbEbp_FkJ1Q/s400/received_501506793358546.jpeg" width="300" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"Our Endless Love Bracelet is the design that started it all, and it is our charitable cause product. The proceeds from each Endless Love Bracelet sold are used to create care packages for parents grieving the loss of their precious baby to stillbirth. The care packages are then donated to a local hospital. "</span><br />
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<b style="background-color: transparent; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">To Enter:</span></b></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>You must be the family of a child who died, or entering on behalf of a loss family, in the U.S. </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">1. Like <a href="https://www.facebook.com/AllThatLoveCanDo/" target="_blank">All That Love Can Do</a>, and <a href="https://m.facebook.com/onabutterflyswings/" target="_blank">On A Butterfly’s Wings</a> on Facebook.<br />2. Comment below, or on the Facebook post, with your child's name(s), or nickname, and why you'd like to win.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The winner will be randomly selected and announced here and <a href="https://www.facebook.com/AllThatLoveCanDo/" target="_blank">on Facebook</a> on December 10th.<br /><br />Good luck!</span></span>RaeAnne Fredricksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01407539790552958900noreply@blogger.com5