In loving memory

It’s been a full two weeks since my last letter to the baby, and I’m due for an update. But I just can’t do it today. Not because there isn’t a lot to say, not because nothing exciting has happened, not because I’m drained from lack of sleep.

But because I can’t stop thinking about yesterday, and all that yesterday signified, and how much I wish yesterday had never had to happen in the first place.

Because yesterday was my best friend’s daughter’s first birthday. Except we all had to celebrate without her.

Elaina Kate was born on June 22, 2005, nearly one week past her due date. She passed away shortly thereafter, from complications from a rare, genetic condition that no one could have foreseen while she was in utero. She was loved fiercely and abundantly by so many—by friends and family, by those who never met her, by two amazing, remarkable parents who would have turned the world upside down and inside out a hundred thousand times over if it meant they could have spent just a few more minutes with her. And there is absolutely nothing they wouldn’t have done to have been able to take her home with them.

The gut-wrenching anguish of that day is still fresh in my memory: getting that phone call at work, expecting to hear nothing more than Angie announcing her new baby girl’s length and weight with pride. Maybe she’d say that labor wasn’t that bad; that breastfeeding was as weird as we had suspected it would be; that her husband, Mike, was a proud, beaming, first-time father who had already changed his inaugural diaper.

Hearing instead her tiny voice breaking as she told me the baby didn’t make it.

Didn’t make it.

Didn’t make it.

The grief was horrible, devastating, incomprehensible. Elaina’s death was unfair and unfathomable and completely unexpected. And the tears we all cried were abundant: tears of sadness and of rage and of utter despair.

But now a year has gone by. And while there is no doubt that Elaina is missed today as much as she was on June 23, 2005, her death is something we’ve all had to accept, no matter how hard it still is to comprehend. Since then, Angie and Mike have gone through even more difficult circumstances—her subsequent pregnancy ended at 18 weeks with the pre-term delivery of identical twin boys, Andrew and Bennett.

I can say that there is no one I have come to admire more in the world than my dear friend Angie.

I was so tentative to discuss my own pregnancy with her after she lost the boys; I didn’t want to accidentally remind her of what she was missing. The last thing I wanted to do was upset or hurt her.

But I had made the mistake of underestimating our friendship and Angie’s unbreakable spirit.

She has been unwaveringly supportive of every phase of my own pregnancy. She sends cards. She asks questions. She emails, she reads this blog, she sends me advice and suggestions and calls often to find out how I’m doing. She’s the first person I called after we got the ultrasound results. She is truly and genuinely happy for me and that is nothing short of a miracle for someone who has been through so much trauma and pain in just one short year.

She’s the most courageous person I know.

Yesterday, Angie sent out an email in recognition of Elaina’s birthday. It was profound and moving and wise above and beyond her 29 years. It was breathtakingly beautiful. I asked her if she would mind if I shared it here, and of course she said no, that she hopes others can hear her story and find comfort in knowing that someone else has been there, too. Someone else survived.

The person I have watched Angie become throughout this last year, this year of hell and damnation and agony and yet of rebirth and healing and strength, is exactly the kind of person I know she would have raised Elaina to be.

In Angie’s own words:

“This last year:

I have seen the happiest day of my life turn in to my worst.

I have felt heartwrenching grief.

I have leaned on family and friends for help & comfort.

I have loved more than I thought possible.

I have cried more than I ever have since I was a baby.

I have laughed hard.

I have been thankful for what I have.

I have been blessed by the kindness & love of family, friends & even strangers.

I have been frustrated & angry.

I have been depressed.

I have felt strong and positive.

I have felt scared and vulnerable.

I have learned that life is truly not fair.

I have learned that family & friends are so very important.

I have learned that I am stronger than I ever would have believed.

I have learned that good things can come out of the very worst situations.

I have learned that there are some things in life that you cannot understand and dwelling on them will only pull you further from healing.

I have learned to be positive in spite of the obstacles.

I have learned that worrying does not change anything.

I have learned that facing things that cause you pain initially hurts, but brings a surprising peace.

I have learned to keep hoping, even when it seems like things will never look better.

I have learned to be thankful for the truly good life that I have and to smile, knowing I have 3 angels in heaven watching over me.”

Happy Birthday, Elaina. We miss you so much. And don’t worry—I’m looking after your mom.

Because there’s no one like her in the world.



If you have a word of encouragement for Angie, please feel free to leave a comment for her. She reads this blog often and would be touched by your support. As would I.

Comments

[hydrogeek]

Oh no. As someone who has been through 2 heart wrenching EARLY miscarriages, I can honestly say that I don't know if I could have handled what your friend has gone through. I will add her to my prayer list. Even as strong as she obviously is, a little extra can't hurt.

[Natalee]

Your friend sounds like a truly remarkable woman, fantastic friend and a phenominal mother- because despite the heartbreaking fact that she has no living children, she is still in truth, their mother. It is sad that they never got to know how wonderful she is in this life.

My heart and thoughts go out to your friend on this solemn day-I wish her peace and much happiness in the future.

[Hope]

Hi,

I've been lurking here for awhile (found your blog from one of your comments on amalah.com). I feel the need to comment today on your post which almost reduced me to tears. Note to self: when reading blogs at work, keep office door closed.

My sister just gave birth to a baby boy on Monday and I can't imagine what it would do to the family if we had lost him.

Your love and support of your friend is truly touching. It's so nice to see a) how concerned you are about her feelings and b) how she can put her own tragedy behind her to be so happy for you. I really hope that if I was in a similar circumpstance that I would be able to do what Angie has done. I know that there are many people who wouldn't be able to.

[Kelli]

My heart breaks for Angie and her family. And for you, Emily.
I was in tears reading your post, and your friends letter. Feeling your pain through the words.

We should all be so lucky to have the kind of friend you two are to each other. God bless you all.

[whoorl]

What a beautiful post about a beautiful friend.

It truly hits home. Being 6 weeks away from my due date, I can't imagine losing my baby. CAN'T IMAGINE. All of the body's and baby's preparation while in utero is such a strong bonding experience. To have all that taken away from you is just cruel and unfair.

What a strong woman! I could only hope and pray that Angie will be blessed with a child soon. :)

[Obabe]

I am speechless; my mind can't comprehend what Angie has gone through. The words 'I'm so sorry' seem so trite. Please know I am thinking of you.

[Sheila]

Mere words never seem adequate to me when faced with such difficulty, and yet you both wrote so beautifully of what pain, grief, grace and true friendship are all about. I wish you both some peace on this sad anniversary.

[Serenity Now]

I'm so sorry for their losses - as well as yours. Losing a child touches so many people. Your friendship is amazing and I'm glad it can survive.

[jes]

Emily, Angie:

I'M CRYING.

At work.

I don't even know what to say - my meager attempts at expressing my sorrow for your grief and joy for your hope seem to have gotten lost in the void between my brain and my fingers.

I admire your courage and persistence, your love for your children, your hope against all that has gone horribly wrong.

And I pray that, had it been me in your shoes, I would handle my grief in much the same way as you.

[liz]

i cannot find the words to express the feelings i had while reading this post. Angie, your strength is inspirational; i cannot imagine the depth of grief and multitude of feelings you have endured. Emily, the beauty in this tribute to your dear friend was touching. what a special friendship you two must have. best of luck to both of you.

[ALC]

Emily & Angie:

Delurking to say I lost my first love on June 22, 1995. I can't help but believe our angels must be playing in the same band up there.

[Megan]

Dear Angie~

I'm so incredibly sorry for your loss. I don't know what else to say, only that you and your husband are in my thoughts.

~Megan

[Jessica]

Dear Emily, dear Angie,

I just cried. I’m not sure if that’s because I’m pregnant myself right now. Or that I just felt Angie's pain so vividly. Or because it brought back memories of the time my younger sister lost her baby girl a few days after she was born (due to the toxoplasmosis bacteria that you can catch without knowing during pregnancy). The intense pain, the deep grief, the feeling of being so powerless... it's all so overwhelming. It was for me as a sister, I can’t even fathom how it must be for the mother herself. Now, even 14 years later (and two healthy girls further) we still think about this day a lot. It has changed and humbled us forever.

Angie, I’ll pray for you that your pain will lessen over the years and that your house will be filled with baby joy sooner than later.

And Emily, I hope you can still enjoy every minute of your pregnancy, without fear of all the things that possibly can go wrong. It was hard for me the first time around to fully enjoy in my sisters presence. Even though she was so happy for me. Angie truly sounds like a wonderful and amazing friend. You're so lucky.

[Julia]

Oh, Angie.

You don't know me, but I know we'd hit it off. We have too much in common not to. I respect you greatly without knowing anything more than what Emily has written here.

No words make this easier. And grief is a process that can't be ignored, as I'm sure you've already learned. But there is comfort in knowing you aren't the only one - and you aren't.

I hope time helps you learn to live with the loss. And that life brings you more joy than you ever hoped for - even after all that's come to pass.

My three boys will keep your three company, and keep watch over all of us here. As my mom reminds me, there, they are untouched by the pain of this world, running, jumping and playing with the perfection and peace they deserve.

If you ever need anyone who gets it, come on over.

Julia

[Brandee]

Angie ~ What hearthrenching losses you have endured and what a devastating year. I hope your angels are watching down on you and making sure that you get to have a year of happiness and light.

[My name is also Angie]

Wow. Thank you so much for sharing your sadness and strength. I want to tell you a story that I've grown up knowing about, one that I hope will touch you both.

My mom's best friend in the 1970s was a woman I will call M. My mom and M had the same job, but worked for different agencies. M found out she was pregnant about a month or two after my mom. They had the same OB/GYN. They were always running into each other at the doctor. They were both expecting baby girls.

M was due in mid-April. My mom was due to have my older sister in March. In February, M's baby died in utero. A few days after that, M's own mother died of cancer. She chose not to her mother in her final days that anything was wrong with the pregnancy. After she buried her mother, their doctor induced labor, and very, very sadly, M delivered a stillborn baby girl.

My mom's pregnancy continued without any problems. They talked on the phone, and M told her basically, I'm happy for you; I love you. I'm sorry, but I just can't come to your baby shower. My mom understood. My older sister was born in March of 1977. Shortly after that, M's husband got transferred, and they moved a couple of states away. Although they saw each other to say good-bye, M didn't see my sister until 1988.

They stayed in touch, wrote letters. (This was the 70s after all.) A year later, M had a healthy baby boy. My mom had me a year later, and M had a healthy daughter a year after that. M and her family moved a lot because of her husband's job. My mom and M had a few Moms' Weekends Away with no kids over the years, though I think that had more to do with staying in hotel rooms they didn't have to clean, etc.

In 1988, with two healthy kids a piece, we went on a group vacation with M's family. In 1992, M's son, the one born a year after my sister, was my first reciprocal crush. M told my mom that she will always love the daughter she lost, and she will always look at my sister with a special fondness, knowing that her first daughter would have been hitting the same milestones if she had lived. When my sister got accepted at the same college M went to, M was the first to call with congratulations and send a sticker for the back windshield of her car. When my sister got married last year, M led the conga line around the dance floor at the reception. Wild horses couldn't have kept her away.

Anyway, I wanted to tell you both about my mom and her friend. I wanted to tell you about two strong women, who started out on the same path to motherhood at the same time. Their heartbreak for the little girl they never got to know has become a part of the landscape of their hearts. It will always be there, and so will their friendship. I can only hope, 30 years from now, you are both the hottest mamas on the dance floor at all of your children's weddings, however they come into your lives. I bet you will be.
Take gentle care.

[Christy]

Angie... I cannot fathom the pain you have endured this past year. But the strength in your words speaks volumes. You and your family are in my thoughts and prayers. Truly.

And Emily... Although I know you only from your blog, I know that Angie must be immensely grateful for your friendship.

[The Mom]

I really don't know what to say. My heart aches for your friend. I couldn't even imagine suffering such a loss once, let alone three times over. This was a sweet tribute to her little angels. I'm sure the knowledge that she'll see them all again one day is what gets her through every day.

[Lori]

We're "trying" to have a baby. I'm a long-time reader who admittedly felt a twinge of jealousy when I found out you were "accidentally" pregnant. Again when you didn't gain weight, etc. Anyhoo, I am so happy and excited for you. And even while I'm sitting here crying for your friend, I know that there's hope and that we'll all be ok. Every one of us. Thanks for that reminder.

[lori]

You all are in my prayers for continued strength, peace, and healing.

[Melissa]

You are both beautiful people, and it's amazing how you share one's loss and one's joy, as hard as it may be... There is just so much love and strength and hope, it's hard to fathom. Thank you both for sharing with us.

[Tara]

I do not even know where to begin. I have a friend (actually my sister in law) who like your friend Angie amazes me on a daily basis. Years of fertility treatments lead to a twin pregnancy at 18 weeks Baby A's sac ruptured and she lost them both..girls Angel and Angelica...women like Angie are are truly the women we should honor on Mother's Day. I hope in my life I can show my daughter the courage, strength and love that Angie has shown Elaina.

Happy Birthday sweet Elaina take care of my nieces for me.

[Marly]

Angie, I'm so sorry for your losses. I'm glad you and Emily have each other. My two children have no idea why I was crying as I just went and hugged them.

[s@bd]

One of my very best friends lost her first baby very shortly after the baby girl was born. I, too, remember the phone call and the jagged tear in my heart. I didn't have children then and each of my two children have increased that tear just a little. I cannot bear to imagine the agony of not bringing a child home from the hospital.

Much, much love from a complete stranger to Angie.

And if it's any consolation: my friend now has three beautiful, healthy daughters and one more due any day.

[Megs]

Thank you for sharing this.