Shining Star

"There is no footprint too small that it cannot make an imprint on this world"

A month ago, I wouldn't have given this statement a second thought after reading it. Now it's a thought that runs through my mind every single night as I look to the sky above. 

When I walked through my door after being released from the hospital, other than my girls screaming out Mommy as they ran into my arms, I hear Brooke say "Mommy, did the baby come out yet?" I do believe it's the most difficult question I've ever been asked in my entire life. I had two days prior to going home to ponder up the perfect answer for her, since I knew it was going to be her first question when she seen me. Rob and I spent many hours discussing how we would explain the whole situation to Brooke, but how in the name of God do you do that? What could we say to make her understand, but at the same time shelter her from knowing too much? We didn't want to use the word 'death' as I don't want that word to exist in my soon-to-be four year old's vocabulary just yet. So what exactly do I say to her to help her understand a very difficult and touchy situation for a young child?

My answer?

As tears began to stream down my face, I led her to the couch and told her there was something very important that I had to tell her. As she sat on the couch so innocently, I knelt down in front of her all while trying to put on a strong face. I told her that Emma came out, but she was a very special baby girl, that she had wings, like all of the beautiful angels up in heaven. I continued to tell her that Heaven needs Emma more than we do, because she was so special, she had to go be with the rest of the angels who had wings like her. My strong face broke as I fell into her arms and cried. I reassured her that Emma loves us all very much and will always be in our hearts, forever. She looked into my eyes and I knew, she knew my heart was broken - she took my lead and a few tears streamed down her face. Rob and I explained to her that we're all very sad and that we'll always miss Emma, but it's absolutely fine to cry because it helps us feel better.

Was that the answer I wanted to give Brooke? No.
Could I have provided her a better answer if I could do it again? No

She understood to a point, but didn't come close to understanding the concept of what happened. Later that night as Rob and I tucked her in, gave her kisses, and shut her door we hear her begin to weep. As her sobs grew louder we hear her say "I miss Emma, I want to see Emma." We went in, sat on her bed and held her. We then thought of something that could be a little easier for her to understand. We explained that when she looks to the sky at night, all the stars that are twinkling in the sky are angels, and that Emma is one of those stars looking down at us. And just like that, that was the answer that made her calm. As I gazed into her eyes, I knew that was the answer she understood and was willing to accept...that she was going to be okay.   

As I scoured the internet a few days later for a poem to have at Emma's service, I stumbled upon this:

Shining Star I see you, out front of my door each night.
    As if you are trying to tell me that my Emma is alright.
    Are you her halo's light I see, as I look to the sky each night?
   If in deed you are my daughter, just know that I'm alright.
   As long as I can see you when I look to the sky each night.
      My Little Angel Emma and her halo's shining light.



Being a lost soul, just like Brooke, I felt the need for guidance, stability, for something to just make sense. The moment my eyes skimmed over this poem, it was like something fell into place - two dots were connected. Somehow, I felt that the whole 'star' explanation was meant to be.

"There is no footprint too small that it cannot make an imprint on this world"

As I look to the sky each night, I look to Emma - who I know, in turn, is looking down at me. This is something that my family will live by for the rest of our lives. I've spent the past week in very deep thought about how two tiny feet, changed my family's view of the night sky forever. I no longer look at the sky as just being space beyond earth, it's now a connection to my Angel in the heaven above. 

Baby Angel Emma

March 7th, 2011 - who knew it would become the worst day of my life?

I do apologize for such an enormous gap between blogs, life has been hectic to say the least. I sit behind my computer, with so much to say, but yet I'm lost for words. I have been for the past 10 days.

I've been a lost soul, walking around in a daze.
Numb, yet in so much pain.

Sunday, March 6th

Nearly 24 hours had past by without me feeling any movement from baby Emma. Her being a baby on a straight forward sleeping schedule, I knew when I could expect her to be awake. Supper time, just before Rob was leaving to bring my Mom back to Toronto after a weekend visit, I couldn't take it anymore - I had to go to the hospital, just to hear her heartbeat and put my mind at ease. The nurse had trouble, but after 15 minutes was sure she found Emma's heartbeat. Little did we know, it was my heartbeat elevated from being so nervous. The on-call OB-GYN came in with a portable ultrasound machine to see her heartbeat, but was having troubles, so she order an ultrasound done by a tech. Rob and I peered at the screen, but never did see that little flutter. The OB entered the room silently, her face said it all and I knew.

My heart shattered into a million pieces as tears flooded my eyes and drowned my face. After a 27 week and 4 day roller coaster of a pregnancy, it all ended in the blink of an eye. After having clearance from the Amniocentesis results, I went back to just worrying about Emma coming early. The thought of loosing her to an unknown cause never once crossed my mind.

How?

When?

WHY???

Being as broken and overwhelmed as what I was, the worst had yet to come...I still had to give birth.

Cruel is the only word that comes to mind.

I was induced 10:20pm Sunday night, by 11:00pm the contractions had started. With only a PCA Narcotic to take a little edge off the pain, I lid in bed for 10.5 hours in labour. With Rob and my Mom napping in recliners at the foot of my bed, I didn't sleep a wink. But Emma sent me an angel, Nurse Patty. I have no doubt in my mind that she was sent to take care of me that night. An angel sent straight from Heaven above. She sat by my side nearly the entire night, comforting me in any way she could, offering soft kind words of support. This nurse will always hold a very special place in my heart.

Monday, March 7th

At 9:25am, with Rob, my Mom, Brother, and Sister-in-Law by my side, I gave birth to our baby angel, Emma Lily Faith March. What was supposed to be one of the happiest days of my life, quickly became the worst day of my life. As tears streamed down all of our faces, all I wanted...all I NEEDED at that moment was to hear Emma cry. A cry is something I've never wish for be in my life, but I would have given anything to hear her pitiful infant cry. Instead, nothing but our cries filled the air. Wrapped in a blanket, I was handed my 2lb 3oz silent baby girl. She was perfect and my god did she ever look like Lauren. As blood slowly trickled from her nose, I held her close to my heart and wept. I didn't want to let go, for I held in my arms something that would never be. When I was ready the nurse took Emma, dressed her, took pictures, swaddled her and brought her back so we could have her blessed. During the blessing I grew numb. Not a single tear fell from my eyes. Through sheer exhaustion and anger, I couldn't allow myself to accept the situation. The numbness soon turned back to severe heartache as I handed Emma off to the nurse - as much as I NEVER wanted to let her go, each second that passed with her in my arms, became that much harder to let her go. Never again would I cradle her tiny little body in my arms, kiss her forehead, touch her soft skin or place my finger in her small delicate hand. Never again will my heart be whole.

Though I could have been discharged from the hospital just a few hours after giving birth, Rob and I decided to spend that night in the hospital. A night to mourn our loss, gather ourselves a little, and prepare ourselves for what the rest of the week had in store. Not only did we loose our daughter, but also had a funeral to plan. So many decisions to be made, so many questions to be answered, so many emotions be dealt with. The weight of the world was upon our shoulders. After being discharged on Tuesday, March 8th, Rob and I immediately had to dive in head first, meeting with a funeral director before even going home. We walked into the funeral home like two lost soul in a daze. Decisions had to be made without ever putting any thought into any of it before that time. Cremation or burial? Which urn or casket? Service or no service? And everything else in between. Rob and I decided to have Emma cremated, since we couldn't bare the thought of burying her here in Ontario, and ever leaving her behind if we were to move. We decided upon two petite, heart-shaped urns to have Emma's ashes stored in. One part of her will always be with us, and the other will be laid to rest back home, when the time is right. We made the choice to hold a small, private service, on Friday, March 11th.

The days between my discharge and Emma's service, seemed impossible to fight through. Late nights and early morning with little to no rest in between. Two little girls who needed our time and presence, while Rob and I needed to be out dealing with funeral arrangements. Our very confused 4 year old who just couldn't understand was an emotional wreck and our 2 year old was very calm and needy - both just needed our full, undivided attention. Our family, who was hurting just as much as Rob and I, were left to care for our household and sometimes unruly daughters, some in another country and unable to be here with us, all left to the wayside to keep up mine and Rob's everyday life, as we dealt with arranging a funeral. Purchasing items for Emma's services resulted in a personal battle with ourselves...as nothing felt good enough for a perfect send off for our Baby Angel. We doddled through stores in a daze, in search for something when we didn't even know what we wanted. We sat behind floral arrangements, none of which caught our eyes. I battled myself ever step of the way. Not to mention, we had to sit down and go through Emma's memory box, which consisted of a piece of paper with her hand and foot prints, the knitted dress she wore, the hat that hugged her tiny head, the blankets she was wrapped in, the teddy bear she had her picture taken with, and a special, home-made blanket chosen by Nurse Patty, who's mother-in-law had a part in making. Also, we had to face the dreaded moment of looking at the three pictures of Emma, taken by the nurse the day she was born...

Friday, March 11th

The day of Emma's service arrived far too quickly, but Rob and I managed to gather everything to put together a service. That morning heartache was in the air, you could have cut with a knife. Showering, getting ready, getting dressed, choosing songs to make a CD for the service, juggling two agitated children, and so on. Rob and I left at 1pm to set up the chapel for 3pm. We walked into the chapel and at the very front of the room, on a table with nothing else on it, laid our angel baby in her heart-shaped urn. It was the absolute worst way to reunite with my child. For a moment, I held her to my heart and cried.

For two people who spent previous days battling with ourselves, who walked into the chapel blindsided as to how to prepare, it all turned out perfectly. After completing the layout, Rob and I stood back to take it all in, and at that moment I almost smiled. Emma was happy with it all, I could feel it in my heart. And though my heart ached through the entire service, I almost felt a sense of calm - that Emma was content. It was a perfect send off, to the heavens above, for a perfect angel.

My heart is broken, never will it be whole again.

Not a day goes by that I don't cry.

Not a second passes that Emma isn't in my thoughts.

I often take out Emma's memory box, hold and smell her clothes and blankets - for it still hold her scent.

Yes, everything happens for a reason, I am a firm believer.
But what's the reasoning behind Emma's passing?

Is she a blessing is disguise?

Sent to bring two people, in a sometimes faulty relationship,
closer than they've ever been?

Sent to open a mother's eyes of an often agitated parent.
Now more of a dedicated mother than before?

Sent to make me realize that petty disputes with friends and family
just isn't worth it in the end?

For at any moment, death can rip someone from your grasp without warning. And at the end of the day could you accept it with no regrets?

Emma Lily Faith March
 May you find comfort and rest peacefully in the wings of an angel.