Remembering with Love

This week I'm thankful for all the little loving ways we got to remember our baby girl. I caught pictures of two beautiful butterflies who visited our yard over the past few days. After all our efforts to attract them with our butterfly garden, it's so nice to see them come around.

Eastern Tiger Swallowtail

Eastern Tiger Swallowtail (female - black form)

I saw a monarch, too, but didn't get my camera in time -- that little guy was moving fast!

Last night we spent an evening in Philadelphia. A good friend noticed this lovely ring as we walked through an outdoor craft fair there. It is a lovely way to remember and to acknowledge how much we will always love our sweet daughter.

As a parent, I always appreciate it when people remember our Liza Jane and the things that are significant to us because they remind us of her. This weekend I've been blessed with a couple of friends that have been willing to acknowledge what a significant impact our Liza Jane has had on our lives. And for that, I am thankful.

Living Intentionally, Grieving Intentionally

It's summertime, and the living is... busy. This post is long overdue because we have had lots of summer activities going on - picnics with friends, family gatherings, and warm-weather-inspired fun.

I'm a firm believer in living intentionally, so while the weather is warm and the sun is shining, I've made a conscious choice to get out there and enjoy it. And I've taken my time getting back to the introspective (often indoor) activity of blogging. So here it goes...

Sometimes as grieving parents, I think we need to make a choice to let ourselves remember our children. The other day I did this by taking Liza's scrapbook, the chronicle of her life, and sitting in a room by myself. I looked at the whole book, remembering the good times and the bad times. And I cried.

A page out of Liza's book, and a page out of our lives.

This, to me, is what it means to be intentional about grief. Sometimes memories and emotions come spontaneously. Other times, I think we have to make time to let ourselves process our feelings.

The same is true about life in general. We can be intentional about the way we choose to live, where we focus our energy, where we pour out our love.

One of my choices is to remember my daughter, to spend time recalling her life. I think it honors her memory. It is also a way that I can be kind to myself by acknowledging that I need time to grieve her, I need time to love her, I still need time to be her mommy.

I'd love to hear from you... what do you like to do to "be intentional" about living?

Less Alone

I spent the last week in training for work. During the group introductions on Day 1, I realized that there is an often silent minority of individuals in our society who may wish to have biological children, but do not.

As we went around the room and gave introductions, those who had children shared about them as a central part of their lives, as they should be. I was sitting there thinking and wondering if I was the only one in the room who wished they could say the same, but could not.

Our baby girl gave us her first and only hint of a smile on the way to her heart catheter procedure, which would be the first in a domino series of events that would ultimately end her life.

Whether due to infertility, miscarriages, a child being stillborn, losing a child later in life, or simply not finding the right partner, I am realizing there are more of us out there than meets the eye. This is because we often don't talk about the loss, the missing piece, the disappointment. Even Facebook is a microcosm of this issue: many people seem to post about the highlights in life and bury the low points.

As I walked back to our training room from lunch one day, I heard one classmate talking to another about their plans for the holiday week. The first woman said to the other that her 14-year-old son had been adopted via an open adoption process, so he was visiting with his birth family for a few days. Looking at this woman, I never would have guessed that for whatever reason, she ended up adopting her son. Admittedly, I am making a giant assumption that this woman chose adoption because biological conception was not an option -- but given the cost of adoption, allow me this luxury for the sake of argument.

I think it is easy to assume we are the only ones who have struggled with some loss. It helps, though, to know that we are not alone. There are often others who are walking similar roads, and they are closer than we may think.

When we have enough courage to open up about our challenges, the results may surprise us. For me, at least, it has resulted in feeling less alone on the path of life. And feeling less alone is worth the risk.