My sister, Marla called me this morning as I was taking Jenner and our carpool kiddos to school and asked why I didn't call her back yesterday. She knows when I go quiet, it's not a good sign. After all, "silence is a girl's loudest cry." I've been feeling extra heavy these past few days. A friend from high school passed away and his funeral was yesterday. I wanted to go, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. His visitation and funeral were held at the very same place where Aspen is buried. I knew I would have been a complete mess. I knew the family would recognize my tears. The tears would stem from not only my pain, and the pain from losing my baby, but the tears would also be for Sharon. Jeremy's mom, would now know my pain. The pain of losing her baby. It is pain I would never wish anyone to experience. The pain is unimaginable. My sister posted the video from Jeremy's funeral on Facebook. I shared it, because I wanted people to remember Sharon's baby. I knew it was probably not something I should watch. I knew where it would take me. As I contemplated hitting "Play", I remembered how I felt when I sat and created Aspen's video for his funeral. I remembered the excruciating pain of looking through pictures and watching his sweet face on videos. I wanted to choose the memories that would best capture his spirit so everyone could remember him for the amazing child he was. I decided I owed it to Sharon and the family to watch the video. Just as I wanted everyone to watch Aspen's video. Seeing Jeremy and his family smiling in every picture. Celebrating life, even in the end, when they knew his time was near, they were smiling. I wondered to myself, would I have been able to bring myself to smile if I knew Aspen's fate? I remembered laying in his hospital bed praying so hard to God not to take him from us and with each passing day, realizing his fate was near. All I could do is cry. I'd cry for the memories that would never be. For the first day of school, for the sports he would never play, for the friends he would never make, for the Homecomings and Proms he would never attend, to the high school graduation party, to the college experience that all kids look forward to, the wedding that would never be, and the children he would never have.
I spent most of the morning in tears. Not anything too out of the norm, but I needed something to pull me out of the darkness. I remembered a girl in the CCRM Support Group on Facebook, who learned of our story and reached out to me to share that her sister, who also drowned in their backyard lake when she was 18 months old. She shared that her mom went on to have two more children and that she would be happy to talk to me if I ever wanted to reach out. I pulled up her number and started dialing. I thought, maybe this mom can give me some hope that life will not always be this dark. She knew the exact pain that I knew. Her daughter was also 3 1/2 when she drowned. I got her voicemail, but left a message, which I'm sure was difficult to understand when she heard it as I was still in tears. A few minutes later, the phone rang and it was Debbie. She spent the next 45 minutes telling me her story. After her daughter passed away, just 3 months later she became pregnant. She told me that although she still was navigating the grieving process, her pregnancy gave her hope. As her due date approached, she started worrying that her baby could be born on the anniversary of her daughter's death. She worried that instead of what should be a happy day, would be filled with extreme sadness. As the date approached, she gave it up to God. Andrew was born on March 31st, at 3:31. The same day her daughter passed away 1 year before. She told me that she remembered thinking what a miracle this was. It was no coincidence. This was God's way of giving her light in her darkness. They would now celebrate March 31st instead of dreading it. Debbie's story gave me the hope I needed today. The strength to get through the rest of my day. I am praying everyday that God will give us a miracle. Something to help ease our pain. A baby, a sibling for Jenner, a grand baby for my parents and Clint's parents, a niece or nephew for my siblings and brother and sister-in-law, a cousin for Ava, Phoebe, Isaac, Aiden, and Willa. Some joy in the darkness. I will never stop praying for our miracle!
