In music, a grace note is a note that is held for a brief moment...barely touched on the piano. "Grace Notes" seems like a fitting name for this blog. Our lives changed when I carried our daughter, Grace, for 9 months only to hold her (in my earthly opinion) for a brief moment. She lives in heaven with her Savior. If only that comfort, that sure hope we have, would take away the pain of missing her.

"As you do not know the path of the wind, or how the body is formed in a mother's womb, so you cannot understand the work of God, the Maker of all things." Ecclesiastes 11:5

We are always thankful for Grace.

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

White Paper Bag

Nine weeks after Grace died, we received the phonecall from Vanderbilt saying that Grace's remains were ready to be picked up ~ a day that we were anticipating and dreading. I'll take you back to that day.It was Friday, July 23, 2010. Bob just got off shift from the fire department. To get home, he has to drive through Nashville and decided to stop at the County Clerk's office to see if he could get a copy of Grace's birth and death certificates. Bob was the self-appointed one who got to do the difficult tasks. (Although, I'm pretty sure that I was the one who appointed him to do those things. After all, he's the "strong one", right?) Obviously, I wasn't with him that day, so I don't know what he felt or experienced. I know that he had to drive to 2 different places for each certificate...really? Talk about dragging things out and making them even more difficult.

(The following was written later that day.) "I'm glad that Bob picked up these certificates, but it has to be wearing on him as well. Maybe it didn't seem to be at first. I think that Bob was able to, or trying to, block May 20 from his mind. At the time, this bothered me. Now looking back, I see that it was necessary. I couldn't have him falling apart when I couldn't control myself."

When he arrived home that morning, he handed me the certificates. The "slap in the face" came when I saw her birth certificate. The word DECEASED was stamped across it in big, bold, black letters. I wished that it didn't say that. Isn't that what her death certificate is for? Thankfully, I had already been made aware of this by a friend who also left the hospital without her newborn son. This was actually one thing that I was expecting and somewhat prepared for, but WOW! It still stung! At the moment, I can't recall what is printed on her death certificate for her cause of death.

Shortly after Bob arrived home with the certificates, we received the call. Thankfully, he answered the phone. It was Vanderbilt calling to tell us that Grace's remains were ready. He needed to schedule an appointment to "pick her up". Could we do it today or Monday? We decided, "Let's just do it today." After Bob hung up, he said that he had a feeling that they were going to call that day. He almost drove to Vanderbilt after picking up the certificates to see if "she was ready". We loaded up the girls in the van ~ the van we bought because we were outgrowing our car ~ and we headed to Nashville.

The last time I rode to Nashville was for my 6 week post-partum check...

It still makes me feel sick to my stomach each time I hear the word "Vanderbilt". Bob drives past the clinic where the doctor told us that we'd be having our baby "today" each time he goes to work. Four days after Grace was born, he drove me back there so I could have my staples removed. Six weeks later, he drove me to the same clinic for my post-partum check. The check-up where you are feeling on top of the world, carrying your 6 week old infant in his or her carseat. Except this time, our arms were empty. The waiting room had other parents with their newborns in tow. It was such a different experience for us this time. The doctor didn't even give me the usual examination that I had after our other 3 girls were born. All she asked me was, "Is your incision healing o.k.?" and "How is your mood?" I was dumb-founded and thought to myself as I cried, "So this is what this is...just a mood?"

This is what I wrote in my journal that day...July 23, 2010

We went to Vanderbilt this afternoon, together, as a family. We both cried on the way there. While we were driving in the van, I was watching all of the cars going by and wondering where they were going. We were going to bring our daughter's remains home from the hospital. Grace would get to ride in the van that we bought in December because we would be outgrowing the car in June. I'm not sure what Bob was thinking about, and I don't remember what I was thinking about either. We've been waiting for this day since they told us in the NICU that cremations are done every 3 months.

I wonder why we didn't decide to have a funeral for Grace right away in May. Were we just in complete shock and didn't know what to do? Was I thinking that if we had a funeral, we'd have to bury her in the ground in some cemetery in TN? Maybe God was just telling us to wait until we thought things through and a bit of the numbness and shock had worn off. Maybe our family and friends needed to see her body in a tiny coffin so they would believe that she was real. It doesn't pay to think about the “What ifs” and “If onlys”. We did what we felt was right for us at that moment.

There was nothing comforting about the experience of picking up Grace's remains. We all went to the basement of the hospital and we asked someone where we go to pick up remains. She wasn't sure. Then she stopped someone and asked where “cremains” are. Then they both said “cremains” a couple of more times. "This is our baby you're talking about." Eventually, we found our way to medical records down in a cold basement.

Bob told the receptionist that we were there to pick up some remains. I shouldn't keep making him do all of the hard things that I don't want to do. It was difficult for him to get the words out. There was no reaction from the receptionist. She called someone and had us wait. A lady took us back to her office. Bob signed a form, and she handed him a white gift bag and said, “Have a good night.” It was literally that quick. I couldn't look at her and walked away.

As our family walked through the hospital, Bob and I wondered if people knew. Did the employees know what we were carrying in this white paper gift bag? I couldn't make eye contact with anyone, but when Bob did, he felt as though some of them knew.
When we got in the van, Bob gave me the bag. I held it in my lap for a little while, then I took the dark, wooden, rectangular box out. Bob looked at me and I said that it felt better holding the box. 9 weeks and 1 day after God carried Grace to heaven, we carried her earthly remains out of the hospital in a white gift bag.

Our loss seems to be taking its toll on both of us. There are more tears coming from Bob. Tears are good to see, but it hurts me to see him sad and hurting. Lately, I think that I've been feeling worse. I'm having more dreams and not sleeping well. I wake up feeling sad, anxious, and uneasy. I don't remember details of my dreams, but I know that they involve my pregnancy, a baby, and  death.  July 23, 2010

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Some might think that we've fallen off the face of the earth. I don't remember ever being good at keeping in touch with others. Calling, writing, or sending cards hasn't been my strongest point. We've felt it was necessary to stay hidden behind our hill the last 2 years. It's how we have been able to survive...to somehow keep going when our summer plans drastically changed in May '10. Bob has always had the God-given knack for building things. He amazes us with his talent. I've built plenty of walls inside of myself without a hammer and nails...walls that need to come down. The only way I feel that I can do that is by writing. My mind goes blank when I try to talk...so many thoughts and no way of putting those thoughts into words except on paper.

Grief is such an unpredictable roller coaster ride of emotions. Everyone means well...we know that. We all want to say or do the right thing...some do, some don't. Some aren't able to overcome the awkwardness of being around someone whose baby died. We make others too sad, so it's just easier for them to stay away...easier for them. The subject is avoided and that has been more devastating for me than watching Grace die in my arms. Again...everyone means well. In the past, I've avoided others using the same poor excuses we have often heard, "I didn't want to upset you," "I don't want to make you cry," I didn't know what to say." Pretending it didn't happen doesn't work. Acknowledgement means everything. Seeing silent tears from a friend standing off to the side meant more to me than listening to the thoughtless chatter of someone who felt it was better to say something rather than nothing. That probably doesn't make sense, but many things on this earth don't.

Nothing I say is meant to hurt or blame anyone. I don't talk much about our daughters who we get to share our lives with. They are not my struggle. Life after Grace is, at times. I don't talk much about the loving support we have received either. I need to talk about the things that cloud my head...the things that keep the walls up. This isn't about me or anyone else. It's about how I can glorify God through this.

We no longer try to wrap our minds around God's plans for us. We just trust Him...and it's not easy. Our faith continues to be refined every day. For that, we are thankful.

What I share here will be difficult. I don't open myself up to many. I'm too afraid of what others will say or won't say. Maybe this will give others a better understanding of what goes on inside my head. If you think you've figured me out, please let me know, because I'm still trying to understand me.

As I just said, I want to glorify God through this. I want others to see that side of me. Some do and many don't. I continue to have a difficult time rejoicing on the outside, but I do. I have joy and peace but it is no longer the unquenchable joy and peace we long to find here on earth. My joy is found in the sure hope of heaven...the sure hope of seeing our loved ones again as we continue to miss them. It's difficult surviving someone that we imagined sharing our lives with. Thankfully, Grace shared her entire life with us, and we know without a doubt, that she lives in heaven with her Savior.