One Year Closer

Quincy-

My mind is flooded with memories of this day one year ago. One year Q. One year ago your daddy and I were living our worst nightmare. I can still see it all so clearly in my mind. The drive up the canyon. The phone call. The scene of the accident. The hospitals. Life flight. I remember the smells and the feelings of despair and complete desperation. The pit in my stomach that I still get when I think about these things. One year ago we were forced to make the most difficult decision, to let your spirit free of your sweet little broken body. One year ago we were sitting in that small hospital room, crying, praying, asking, pleading for comfort and knowledge that we were making the right decision, that everything would be ok and that we would be able to survive this life without you. Our hearts broke that day Q.

So much has changed since that day one year ago. Your dad and I are sad. Every day is hard Q. Every single day. It is hard to live in this world without you. We miss you so badly. But people have been good to us and we are grateful. We have felt the love and support of all of those around us who loved you, love us, and loved Val and Kathy. There are many.

We have tried so hard to do our best to deal with the sorrow of losing the three of you. There are days the pain is too great and all we can do is cry. But I feel that as time goes on we are getting stronger and stronger. We are getting used to our life with a son and an angel. Although it is comforting to be feeling some kind of normalcy, I hate that we are getting used to not having you here. It breaks my heart that I can live each day without you and that I am ok. I am grateful for the strength I have been blessed with. I never thought it would be possible to carry on without you.

Much goodness has come of this tragedy. You would be amazed how many lives you touched in your short time here. Lives are changed because of you sweetheart. Especially mine. I am a different person. Although I do not like the sadness that I carry, I feel an overall strength. I look at life so differently now. I never imagined when I dropped you off at Amy's house that day I would never see you again. I realize how precious and fragile this life is and I try my best to not take any thing or any moment for granted. I live each day one day at a time because I am so uncertain what the next will bring.

Quincy, your brother is great. You would love him so much. I wish so badly I could see you interact with him. I constantly live in a daydream of what it would be like if you were here. I play scenarios over and over in my head, imagining how you would react and think about the things you would say. I know you were so excited for the baby in mommies tummy. He is very different than you in so many ways, but now and then we get a glimpse of you. We treasure those moments.

This trial has almost overcome me many times. It's hard. I am given lots of chances to prove to myself how strong I can be. I want to be strong Quincy. I want you to look down on me and be proud that I am your mommy. I want to greet you in heaven and be proud of the way I handled this life. I am clinging to the things that I have been taught, that you live and that I will see you again and that I will even get to raise you. I live for these things. This hope is what gets me through each day. I am thankful for hope.

You are still our world Quincy. You are everything to me and daddy. Although you are not here with us, our life still revolves around you. We love you as much today as we did each day we held you in our arms. We think about you in everything we do. We never stop thinking about you. You are our sweetheart, our doll, our silly little girl.

One year closer baby girl. We are one year closer to being with you again.

Love you lots.

04/29/12

One year ago today I took this picture.

It was a Sunday, the day after our anniversary. On the 28th Brady and I went to the Supercross, like we do every year, then spent the night in SLC. My mom and dad kept Quincy overnight, it was her first time staying with them. My mom was so thrilled to be able to spend one on one time with her and spoiled her by buying her a new pink baby doll. I remember when I picked Q up my mom told me that there was something unique about her. Something special. She was so lively and smart and so advanced for her age. She said she was excited to see where she would go in life. I remember thinking about this all the way home. I had always thought Q was a special girl, but she was mine. Every mother thinks their child is the best.

I had so many dreams for her.

It wasn't 5 minutes on the road and Quincy was zonked out in her car seat. I took this picture to send to my mom. After I sent it to her I almost deleted it. Its not a great picture. Little did I know it would be one of my last, and because of that, one of my favorites. I treasure every picture I have of Q. I remember almost every minute behind every single picture.

As I think about this time last year I think about how perfect and simple my life was. I think about how content and naïve I was. I often think about what I was doing a year ago, about how different my life was and where I imagined it to be this time of year. I had no clue. Sometimes I wonder if I would have liked to have known that Q wouldn't be with us forever.

I don't think so.

As I think about this day a year ago and think about today, I am sad. I'm sad that after just a few more days I won't be able to say, last year at this time me and Quincy were doing..... But in the same breath, it will be good. Another step forward in the healing process. I miss the simpleness of my emotions. I don't like the heaviness and sorrow I now carry. It's always there. Always. I feel as though I will never be truly content again in this life. I have lots of joy, but I will never have the carefree ness that I once enjoyed. I miss that.

I miss Quincy.

month 7

Ryder,

I cannot believe that you are already 7 months old. You are starting to feel more and more like a kid and not a baby which I am excited about. But as I look back I kind of miss you being a newborn. I feel like I have rushed your infancy because I want a toddler so badly.

You have really embraced eating food. You love it. You want to eat all the time and never seem to be full. I have to cut you off when I feel like you have had enough. You have liked everything you have tried so far except bananas and sweet potatoes. I think its a texture thing. You want so badly to feed yourself but can't quite get the food from your hand into your mouth. You always end up sucking on a finger while desolving the treat in your hand. You'll get it.

Like your sister, you are quite the talker. Well, maybe talker isn't the word, you are just noisy! Q would talk in sweet little coos and la la la's and you grunt and growl and yell. Your voice is low and loud. I know I've said this before, but you are such a boy. You are so different than your sister. I love to hear your voice though. I can't wait until the growls turn into words. I long to hear the words, I love you Mommy.

You have turned into a great sleeper. You are not a night owl and have a hard time making it to 8:00 most nights. But once you go to bed you sleep until about 7 the next morning. You always wake up once between 3 and 5 for a small bottle but then you are right back out. I don't even mind getting up with you because I longed for those nighttime snuggles when Q left. You are so cuddly at night and I want to soak up every minute I can with you.

 You are such a good boy Ryder. I don't know how I have gotten so lucky to have two great babies in a row. You are a little whiney sometimes, but you rarely cry. You smile and laugh a lot, which does mine and daddies hearts good. We need the laughter. You are kind of a little charmer. Sometimes when I smile at you, you crinkle your nose and squint your eyes and give me a little smirk. Oh boy, you melt my heart.  

Love you lots.

things

I read a lot of blogs from families that have lost a child. It feels good that there are others out there that I can relate to, that know the pain that I do. It helps me. It helps me work through my grief and emotions. Sometimes I feel they are writing just to me, or even about me. There are posts that I could copy and paste word for word to my own blog.

The other day I read this post. I have felt this way many times. I was so quick to put Quincy's things away after she died. I am pretty sentimental and it hurt so badly to have all of her possessions here without her. When we came home from the hospital without Q in our arms, the first thing I saw was her stack of books next to the rocking chair in the living room, the books we read every single night. Then I saw her little rocking chair sitting by the window with her blankets and baby dolls. I can see it all so clearly. I then walked into her room to put her things away. Her room was just the way she had left it, babies tucked into beds, dishes and food on the stove of her kitchen, a crumpled plastic fire hat on the shelf, a torn pair of stretch pants waiting to be fixed on her dresser, drool and snot smeared on her sheet, even a loose hair and a dent from her head. And the smell. The smell. Every one's child has a smell and everyone thinks their child smells the best. I loved Quincy's smell.

No one tells you how to deal with losing a child. Nothing prepares you for it. There is no protocol or process to handling the pain and grief. You feel helpless and hopeless and I had no idea what to do with her things. Before Quincy was born I stalled putting her room together. I had to do fertility treatments to get pregnant with her and was never given any answers as to why it was so hard for me to get pregnant, so I wasn't real confident that I was actually having a baby until she was born. I remember Brady asking me why I didn't want to set things up for her and I told him I was scared that something would happen to her, that she wouldn't really come and I would have to pack everything away. That was too hard for me. I didn't want to set up and take down a room for a child I so longed for.

Now I was faced with packing up the room of a child I had raised for 20 months, a child that I had memories with and loved dearly, my little girl. I didn't want to put Quincy's things away, but it hurt so bad to see them every day without her. I felt bad for her that she wasn't here to play with the things she loved so much. Her room was a really hard thing for me and I fought with her door often. When it was open I would see her things and I would go in and sit on her floor and cry, so I would close the door, but when her door was closed it meant she was in her bed sleeping and my mind would tell me that she still was, so I would open the door again. It was too much for me.

The time I have spent without Q I have had a complete change of perspective about "things". When we leave this world we take nothing with us. Not one thing. I so badly wanted Quincy to take her softie and her binkie with he when she left. I wanted her to have her things that she loved so much, the things that were calming and comforting to her. Although I am extremely sentimental and now treasure many of Quincy's possessions, it's the memories that go along with those things that I'm clinging to. It's seeing her kiss and rock her baby dolls, snuggling her softie, running in those jelly shoes, drinking out of the green sippie cup. It's the smell of her clothes, the feel of her stringy hair. It's the tiniest things that I miss so so desperately.



month 6

Ryder-

You are following right in Quincy's footsteps with your ear infections. This month you had another one. I knew right away when you were up all night and took you to the doctore before it got too bad. I hope you don't continue to have them, but I won't be surprised if you do.

You keep growing like crazy! At your 6 month appointment you weighed in at 17lbs 4oz putting you in the 44th % for weight and 27.5in, putting you in the 83rd % for height. How did we get such a big boy! You are wearing 6-9 month clothes and your foot is already a size 2. You are bald and chunky and we love it.

You hit two big milestones this month. You learned how to roll from back to front and sit up. I can no longer leave you in a room by yourself because you will roll all over. If you see something you want you can usually get to it, and anything you can grab along the way you put in your mouth. We have to watch you a lot closer now. You can also sit by yourself. It is so nice to be able to sit you up without having to prop you on something. You love it.

I couldn't wait until the 6 month mark to feed you, I was too excited. I started feeding you pureed food a few weeks ago. I love this phase. I feel like I am pushing you to grow up fast, but I love the toddler stage so much more than the baby stage. I can't wait for you to get there. So far you have tried rice cereal, oatmeal, pears and potatoes. You have loved all of these. I have to cut you off because you will eat and eat. I hope you like everything like your sister did. She was a great eater and it was fun to feed her because she would try almost everything.

As you are growing and we see more of your personality it's been fun to see the difference and similarities between you and Quincy. She is all we know so we compare everything to her. You are much bigger than her; big hands, big feet, big head. So boyish. Q was so petite. It's very different to have a boy after a girl. You are loud and rough. You hit and scratch and your voice is low and raspy. You are sweet and thoughtful like your sister though. You keep me in your sights and when we make eye contact you almost always smile. You look me in the eye and I know that you and I are going to have something very special. You have stolen a huge chunk of my heart. My thoughts are becoming more consumed with you and that is a good thing.

Ryder, you are my world. You are such a good little boy. You keep me going. You keep me smiling. You keep mine and daddy's world moving forward. I don't know where we would be without you. You came at just the right time, we needed you more than you will even know.

Love you lots.

lifelong broken heart

We don't want to say goodbye we don't want to feel that empty
But it's time to face the dawn head on
When there's something in the wind when the days go getting shorter
And the nights run cold and clear down here

We'll take each new day to give what we need to do our part
While were learning how to live with a lifelong broken heart

And we never will forget it's a privilege to remember
The sound of days gone past will last
We can see you in the stars come some vivid night in November
With the last few leaves that fall recall

Surely each new day will give what we need to do our part
To keep learning how to live with a lifelong broken heart

Oh you beautiful one so clearly a gift life had designs of its own
To set you adrift

So go lightly where you must travel soft upon new wings
You will never be alone go on
When we cannot understand when we cannot find new meaning
We'll seek out the ones you loved and love

Taking each new day to give what we need to do our part
To keep learning how to live with a lifelong broken heart
Were just learning how to live with a lifelong broken heart

-Rodney Crowell

Miss you doll

dirty white sock

I can't believe we are coming up on one year since we lost Quincy, Val and Kathy. It is so unreal that we have lived this long without them. When I think back to the last year of my life, I feel like it never happened. I feel like I have been checked out for the last 10 months. 10 months today. Did all of that really happen? Did we really bury a child and two parents? No, Quincy is at daycare. Val and Kathy are at home.

I wish.

I was having an especially hard day last week. It was Thursday so I was home with Ryder. He was a doll that day, but everything else was making me sad. Ryder has gotten so cute and happy and I am really starting to enjoy him. He is becoming more childish and not so babyish and I am reminded of the things I love and miss about Quincy. I was in Ryder's room folding clothes and cleaning up, a room I am in daily and I kept noticing Qs' things. I see these things every day, but that day they were standing out, triggering so many memories and emotions. In that sweet little boys room we have a lot things that were Quincy's; her toys, her rocking horse, her lamp, her crib, her photos and shadowbox, things that are now to be owned and used by her brother. This is bittersweet for me. I want Quincy to play with those toys and rock on that horse.

It was the box of puzzles in the closet that hit me the hardest that day. Anyone that knew Quincy knows how much she loved puzzles. We played puzzles every day. I stared at that red box for a long long time, writhing inside. My heart ached. When I get in these moments where I cannot see the light at the end of the tunnel, when I am so consumed by sadness, I have to push the sad thoughts out of my head. I have to shift my focus, otherwise I am crippled by sorrow and it's impossible to function. I moved on with my chores, trying to shift. I was changing Ryder's bed sheet and my mind became consumed again with Quincy as I was daydreaming about her in that crib such a very short time ago. (which seems like an eternity) As I was tucking and tightening the sheet I felt something. A little lump. I put my hand up in the sheet and pulled out a dingy dirty little sock. Quincy's sock. How did it get there? A week after the funeral I pulled her bed apart and washed everything. I have washed Ryder's sheets multiple times. How did that little sock get there??? My entire body was burning. The feeling in that room was so overwhelming. I have never been so grateful for a dirty sock. I broke down. I sobbed for my darling little Quincy. I cried for a long time, harder than I have let myself in a while.

10 months later, my mind is still constantly reeling, trying to process, trying to make sense of everything that has happened. I want to understand. I want to see the bigger picture. I want to know why God let Quincy die, why He didn't save her when I know He could have. I want to know more. I want to feel at peace. I want my mind to rest, to be content and to feel confident in what I know and believe.

The more I question and the more I wonder, the more confused and frustrated I get. Then I get a sweet little reminder of the life that I once shared with a feisty 20 month old darling I named Quincy, and I feel peace. I feel a burning in my heart and my eyes swell. I don't need to wonder. I don't need to understand. I will never, in this life, know the details. I know that she is alive. I can feel her. I know that I will see her again. And that, for now, is enough.