Insomnia

I wrote this at the start of the month, but it holds true especially tonight, on the eve of the worst day of the year:

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The minutes tick by and I'm aware that Seanna may wake at any moment. It's past midnight, we're all sick and I could certainly use the rest. Except I can't sleep. 

Because it's January. 

Aside from Levi's birthday, that oh so wonderful day at the start of the month, there's not much I like about this month. I mean, what is there to like about the month my daughter died in? I've never downloaded Timehop because I didn't want unexpected reminders; I didn't think I could handle it. But now Facebook shows memories in my newsfeed "because they care about me". Thanks for that Facebook. I can't say I wanted to be reminded of how excited people were to meet our baby...the baby they never actually did meet. Because she died. And every January that fact keeps me awake. 

I hate you January. 

I wish you'd let me sleep. 

Three years of Celebrating Ariella Jade

Ariella turns three this week! As we have done in previous years, we invite you to celebrate and remember her with us. We'll be lighting a candle on her Heaven Day and watching the sunset on her birthday (if Levi and Seanna don't need to be in bed first!). Would you join us? We would absolutely love to see photos of you celebrating our girl - please post here in the comments, on Facebook or Instagram using #celebratingariellajade . I know some people like to make a donation in her name (although of course there is NO pressure to do so) - our favourite organisations are Heartfelt, Sands and SIDS and Kids, but any donation in her name are appreciated. However you celebrate her this week, please tell us about it. It brings a smile to our hurting hearts. Thank you!

Two...

It's hard to believe that it's been two years since we said hello and goodbye to our beautiful Ariella Jade. Last year, we organised a "birthday week" for her so that people could celebrate her life with us. I had planned to do the same this year, but it was too hard to think about so I never got around to it. However, some people have asked how best to support us and there were a few things last year that were really special. So I've put together a couple of things you may like to do if you want to celebrate her with us.

If you choose to celebrate with us, please let us know.

-Take a photo and share it with us via Facebook or Instagram using the hashtag #celebratingariellajade 

-Send a message telling us what you have done in her memory

-Leave a comment on this post 

Obviously there is no pressure to donate in her memory, so please don't feel like you must. This year, Marcus and I will be donating a bear through Pregnancy Loss Australia - these teddy bears are given to parents at the hospital so that they do not have to leave with completely empty arms. The tag on the bear says who it is donated in memory of - the bear we have is in memory of Lily and it was a comfort to hold it straight after the ultrasounds that showed Ariella had died. I always wonder who Lily was and I'm so grateful for the person who donated the bear in her memory. It's $20 to donate and it can be done on their website.

Thank you for those who have already messaged and supported us in the lead up to her special days. We appreciate every single message and card and we are so thankful that our girl is not forgotten. 

Eighteen Long Months

My dear Ariella,

It's been eighteen long months since you came and went. Or is it went and came? After all, you were gone before we met you. Sometimes I still can't quite believe that. How is it that your anniversary is before your birthday? It shouldn't be that way my sweet girl.

Eighteen long months since I first saw your beautiful face. It really was love at first sight - I couldn't believe that you had dark hair. Your daddy and I were blondies so I expected that for you too. But no, you decided to surprise us with dark brown hair. And no matter how many months pass, I don't think I will ever forget just how dainty your fingers were. They were so beautiful. I miss them.

Sweet girl, you have a baby brother now. He looked so much like you when he was born! Same dark hair (although that didn't surprise us) and the same little nose. Even now, I still look at him and think he looks so much like you. I wonder what you would look like now. Would you have stayed long and dainty, or would you have developed the same glorious chub that your brother has?

I don't know how Heaven works...I don't think you'll be able to read this, but I wonder if you can see me? Would you be proud of your mama? I hope so. It's been so hard without you but I'm doing my best. Your brother loves looking at your photos, although at this point he's probably just enjoying the way the light reflects on them! But one day he will know who you are and how special you are.

Precious Ariella, eighteen months ago today was one of the best days of my life. I got to meet you. And that is a moment I will always treasure.

With love,

Your mama

Heaven's Got a Plan For You

On January 28 2013, we were eagerly anticipating the birth of our first child. I was just under 39 weeks pregnant and my midwife came for what we thought would be a routine check-up. Instead, we discovered that our precious baby had already gone to Heaven. To say it was awful would be an understatement. Later that week, my husband and I went shopping for a dress to bury Ariella in. It was a very challenging experience - not only did we have to spend time in the baby section of shops (which tend to be filled with parents and little babies...) but it was very difficult to find a dress in her size, yet alone a dress good enough to be her forever dress. I felt like I was on the edge of a breakdown the entire time, until I heard the voice of God in this song that was playing in one of the stores:

Don't you worry, don't you worry child

See Heaven's got a plan for you

Don't you worry, don't you worry child...

To this day, I can't decide if what I heard in the song was God speaking about me or Ariella. Was it the voice of my Father God, calling me His child and reminding me that He had a plan even in the midst of our tragedy? Or was He telling me that He had a plan for Ariella? Or was it both?

I think it was both. As we wandered through the shops doing something I never wanted to do, I needed to know that God was still in control, that He still had a plan for my life. But I also needed to know that there was a plan for Ariella that hadn't stopped just because she had died. One year later and I cannot say that I know what either plan is. I don't know what God is going to do with my life or Ariella's legacy, but I know He'll do something. Over the past year I've had the privilege of getting to know some incredible women, sharing with them in this grief journey and honouring the lives of their babies. I'm grateful for those whom I have met and the impact they have had on me.

I cannot say I am grateful for the events of this day last year, but I am grateful for the knowledge that God still has a plan.

Don't you worry, don't you worry child...

Ariella's Birthday Week

Next week is a significant week - it's the one year anniversary of Ariella's death and her first birthday. I have to be honest and say that it's quite difficult to think about those days. But no matter how hard those days seem to be, I still want to celebrate our girl. My friend Sarah had a "birthday week" to celebrate her little Evie. I loved the idea and decided to do likewise for Ariella. Will you join us as we spend the week celebrating the life our little girl had?

I've put together a range of different things you could do to celebrate Ariella throughout the week. If you choose to celebrate with us, please let us know.

-Take a photo and share it with us via Facebook or Instagram using the hashtag #celebratingariellajade 

-Send a message telling us what you have done in her memory

-Leave a comment on this post 

For those who want to donate in her memory, three organisations have helped us a lot.

• Heartfelt: provided our gorgeous photos of Ariella. Many of you donated to the camera project for my birthday and enough money was raised to completely cover two kits and half of another (Heartfelt covered the other half). If you would like, you could donate so that Heartfelt have to contribute less towards that third kit. My fundraising page has closed, but you can donate via the website and just write in the comments that it is in memory of Ariella Jade for the camera kits.
• Pregnancy Loss Australia: gave us a care package on the day we found out Ariella had died. It included a teddy bear so that we had something in our arms when we left hospital. You can donate in Ariella's name and provide a teddy/care package for another grieving family.
• Sands: provide great ongoing support. I went to a support meeting and it was the first and only place where my grief has felt normal. They rely heavily on donations and you can donate in Ariella's name.

Please feel no obligation to donate, but I thought I would suggest a few options if that is something you would like to do. Thank you in advance for any way you choose to remember and celebrate Ariella Jade next week. 

Happy birthday Evie Caris

A year ago, on November 8 2012, a sweet little girl was born. Her name is Evie Caris, and just a few hours after she was born, she went to be with Jesus. Evie was blessed to spend her whole life being held by those who loved her most.

Sarah, thank you for your friendship this year. Thank you for the chance to remember Evie with you by wearing pink and butterflies. I'll be lighting a candle for her tonight. Much love to you, Josh and Micah.

I shouldn't

Life is not how I imagined it would be.

I shouldn't have the luxury of resting in bed, trying to fight off a cold that hasn't yet made up its mind whether it will stay or not. I should be up, looking after an eight month old. But I'm not.

I shouldn't dread meeting new people, in case they ask if this pregnancy is my first. I shouldn't feel awkward when answering truthfully, but then again, people shouldn't back away when I tell them about Ariella.

I shouldn't be uncomfortable at larger gatherings, but people's silence regarding Ariella is deafening.

I shouldn't be planning how to capture my grief when on holidays for a week; I should be excitedly looking forward to introducing Ariella to a great friend of ours. But I'm not.

I shouldn't have to go to the cemetery to visit our girl. But I do.

Eight months on and I miss her more than ever.

Life shouldn't be so hard. But it is.

Mathias

Mathias is my friend's first son, and today should have been his third birthday. Instead, today marks both his birthday and his anniversary - 3 years in Heaven. I never got to meet this much loved little boy and was saddened by the fact I was unable to attend his funeral. I remember someone telling me about the service, and how sad it was to see such a small white coffin. They said "they shouldn't need to make coffins that small". I never dreamed that Mathias' mum and I would get to know each other better because of a second little white coffin.

Today marks three years of Mathias living in Heaven and seven months for Ariella. I have no idea how it all works in Heaven, but I hope they are playing together.

Happy birthday Mathias Raphael. You are missed.

Six months, baby girl

I'm not a fan of the end of each month. There are too many dates that hurt.


27th - the last time I felt Ariella move and, I believe, the day she died

28th - the day our hearts shattered when we discovered our baby had died

29th - the day I was induced and labour started (although I didn't mind labour and this day normally hurts simply in anticipation of the 30th)

30th - the day we met our sweet Ariella

31st - the day we walked out of the hospital with empty arms


Every month, those dates hurt. But this month they hurt more than normal, because it's now been six months since our Ariella died and was born. SIX MONTHS. I struggle to think that we've made it through half a year without her with us. It seems crazy. I didn't think I could live without my baby girl and with such heartache. But it turns out you can.

I've had a tough few days in the lead up to today, and I did wonder if the anticipation of today would be worse than the actual day. I think it was. I didn't have to go to work today (for unrelated reasons), so I took some time for myself this morning, then grabbed some lunch to go eat with Ariella. They were mowing the lawn when I arrived, so I sat in the car for a while, observing all that was going on. 

Two of Ariella's grandparents had visited earlier, and left some gorgeous gerberas. I added the white daises, and then headed home.

I may not have done a lot these past few days, but I'm pretty proud of the fact that I simply got out of bed. I even got a load of washing done today. I had heard that a lack of motivation is a normal part of grief, and I'm definitely feeling that lately. Sometimes I feel like I should be "doing better" by now, as it's been six months. But it's ONLY been six months. That's no time at all really. So on a hard day like today, when I get out of bed, get dressed and even get some jobs done, that's good enough for me.

Also, just wanted to say thank you to our wonderful friends and family who have messaged today and yesterday. We're so grateful to know that Ariella is loved and missed by others too, and that we aren't forgotten.

Five months

Every now and then, I stop and realise how much life has changed since the end of January. The grief is still with me, it still hurts just the same, but I can think about it less. It's not at the forefront of my mind all the time. And that is nice. People sometimes say to me that I should think about what Ariella would want for me.

Would she want me to keep going with life? Yes. 

Would she want me to get up and go out, even though it's hard? Of course. 

But would she want me to take care of myself, taking time out when needed? Absolutely. 

There are still some things that I find incredibly hard. And to be honest, some of them are things that "should" be easy. But I'm ok with not being ok. It's only been five months. In the scheme of things, that's not that long. Not when my baby's died.

Five months today, baby girl.

This post is dedicated to baby Corbin. He shares the same birthday as Ariella, and

joined her in Heaven two and a half days later. Very loved and very missed.

I am not okay

It's been almost four months since our precious Ariella died and was born. Four months. It's been both the slowest and fastest four months for my husband and I. On one hand, it feel like longer than four months since we held our sweet girl, saying hello and goodbye too close together. And yet we can't believe that we've managed four months without our girl...how could that much time have gone past already??

I cry less in public these days. I make it to more social events than I used to. I even manage to work two days a week. I volunteer in the Children's Church most Sundays. I sometimes bring baked goodies to events. 

I am, somehow, getting through this year. But I want you to know that I am not okay. 

Crying less in public doesn't mean I cry less. It just means that I'm tired of always being so vulnerable in public, and can better hold it in until I'm in the safety of my home.

Making it to more social events than I used to doesn't mean I make it to as many as I did before Ariella's death. It just means that I've learnt to put on a brave face and attend at least some things.

Working two days a week doesn't mean I've conquered the anxiety of going out. It just means that I've found something  not too confronting to do that makes me feel like I'm making a difference and that I'm useful.

Volunteering in the Children's Church in no way means I'm alright to be around children. It just means that I needed to get back to some sort of "normal", and since Children's Church was normal for me before Ariella's death, I can normally hold myself together for a few hours each Sunday. Just because I can be in the Children's Church does not mean I can be in the creche. I can't. 

Bringing baked goodies to events doesn't mean I can always cook. It just means that on that particular day, I was able to convince myself to go into the kitchen, as opposed to the days when the mere thought of cooking leaves me in tears, unable to physically make myself do it. 

Just because I'm still here, still standing four months after Ariella's death, does not mean I am okay. I'm not.

I am not okay. 

I get angry - when people do something insensitive, when they expect me to be "moving on" (whatever that means), when people forget that my husband lost his daughter too. I'm not the only one grieving, he is too. And I get angry and hurt when people don't ask how he is going. I am not okay with people focusing on me to the exclusion of my husband. 

I get sad - when people take it for granted that they will have kids, when people complain about the children they do have. I understand that sometimes children can be tiring and frustrating, I've looked after them enough to know this is true. Just don't complain in front of us. We would give ANYTHING to have Ariella alive, even if she was a screamer who never slept or let us leave the room without a tantrum. Please think about what you say about children in front of us, and please remember that if you have a living child, you are blessed. No matter how frustrated or tired they make you.

I get overwhelmed - at the thought of getting up, going out, cooking dinner. But I'm also blessed, by a friend who made us a meal "because we might want a break" and by a friend who willingly agreed to make us a meal when I asked.

I get tired - of crying, of being vulnerable in public, of feeling like I don't fit anywhere except bereaved parent support groups. 

We miss Ariella more than we ever thought it was possible to miss someone. It's been almost four months, but please don't expect us to be okay yet. We're not. 

Three months

Three months ago today, at 9am, I got to meet the sweetest little girl. Yes I had to say goodbye before I wanted to, but I'm so grateful I got to meet her.

Three months ago today, I saw the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.