Christmas

It's hard to believe Christmas is 3 days away. 

Every year I would get so wrapped up in making sure my holiday looked picture perfect. I couldn't wait to set up the tree and obnoxiously fill each room with overpriced Christmas decor. I started stressing in October what my Christmas card would look like, the more unique the better. I would arrange piles of presents then sit down to wrap them all while drinking a beer, remembering why I used to beg someone else to do the wrapping. My biggest fear being I would have remaining items on my expensive Christmas list that I sent out no less than three times beginning in November. 

This year my decorations and tree remain tucked away in the attic. I have purchased two gifts, neither of which will come close to wrapping paper, I have no desire for receiving gifts and I have thrown away every Christmas card that has been delivered to us. I promise I'm not a Scrooge though. My priorities have changed. 

There are so many families struggling this Christmas to survive the day. There are families sitting at LeBonheur keeping a vigilant watch over their sick babies, a small child experiencing their first Christmas without a parent, and a husband mourning the loss of his wife. 

During my hiatus of Christmas I have been able to spend my time with family and friends instead of standing in line irritated at the saleswoman moving at a snails pace. I am not stressed over organizing gifts but rather I have been able to step outside of myself and organize my priorities. 

This year instead of gifts I want prayers and positive vibes. I want a family to receive a Christmas miracle and take their new baby home. I would love for a worried mother to be provided with gifts and food from a kind stranger. I want all the LeBonheur nurses and babies to have an easy, stress free day. I also wouldn't mind if American Airlines let Zelda Grace fly to Mexico with me. 

P.S. If you have any extra money left from your Christmas budget you can always donate to LeBonheur. There are plenty of babies there who would love a pretty hat for Christmas.  

P.P.S. I might throw your cards away but I cherish your kind emails. They make my day better and I greately appreciate it.

Disapppointment

I've learned so many valuable lessons throughout my grief journey so far and frankly I am sick of it.

I had to learn the hard way that nothing in life is guaranteed. Pregnancy does not guarantee a baby, people you thought were great friends will let you down and tragic events happen to good people.

I lost two people after Olivia passed away who had previously played a large part in my life. I confided in them, I laughed and cried with them, and I loved them. Thats what you do with friends. I never imagined they wouldn't been there when I needed a support system the most. I am struggling to let them go and focus on the people who have been there for me but loss is tricky. It consumes your thoughts and feeling making it difficult to focus on the positives; and I have so many positives.

I have friends who halted their lives to be with me during the worst week of my life. They were the first people I saw when I got to LeBonheur and they were the last people I saw when I would leave. They slept on the couch and floor in the same room as Rob and I for a week when we couldn't stand to be alone. Those friends and family are the reason Rob and I have survived each day. They show up and they stick around. They call, text, show up, and repeatedly let us know we are not in this alone. I am eternally grateful for each and everyone of them. They are the bright stars on my dark night.

So, why can't I let the disappointing people go? I do not understand how you abandon people in their darkest hour. How do you decide that a person in need is not worth your time?

I had to reach out to both of these people just to be let down again. One never responded and the other asked for forgiveness just to let me down again.

Life is disappointing and just when you think it can't get any worse you're let down again.

I have asked myself and others many times what I could have done that was so bad to be punished in such a harsh way. I have tried to be a good friend, a loving daughter and a supportive sister. All I have ever wanted in life was to add amazing mother to that list. Instead life teased me. I had everything I wanted for a split second until it was viciously ripped away from me. It left me heartbroken and lonely.

Today is the last time I will allow someone to repeatedly let me down. I will move forward and focus on the friends and family who were there for me and I will not look back. I will forgive them but I will never forget.

Goodbye.

Lighthouse

Rob and I took a trip to Boston back in October to get away for a little bit and we took Livie with us.

I was stopped at security when my carry on bag had a suspicious box in it. I felt the heat rise into my face as the TSA agent pulled me aside and started emptying the contents of my bag. I was fighting back the tears as I was trying to explain to her the box contained my daughter's ashes. A very sweet older TSA agent had been watching and stepped in and stopped the process. She apologized and told me I could repack my bag and gave me her condolences.

I sat at the gate trying to hide my tears from fellow travelers while explaining to Rob this was not how Olivia's first flight was supposed to happen. I sat through the flights and walked through the airports with a death grip on my bag, constantly checking to make sure the box was okay.

The next day we drove to the ocean in Scituate, MA. There is a lighthouse on the coast surrounded by a beautiful rock wall that extends into the ocean. I changed out of my boots and into my tennis shoes and Rob and I started the long walk to the end of the rock wall.

We found a large rock on the edge of the wall to sit down on and took out Olivia's ashes. I had written a letter to her before I left Memphis that I had intended to read to her but when Rob asked me if there was anything I wanted to say all I could say between sobs was "I love you, Olivia".

Rob untied the bag and we watched the waves carry away the ashes of our world.

"Hi, my name is Olivia and I will be your server today."

We had driven to a harbor to eat lunch and we were seated by a window overlooking the lighthouse. I swallowed a rising lump in my throat as I looked at our waitress with disbelief. As we left lunch, Olivia gave Mommy and Daddy a final sign that she was okay. The most beautiful double rainbow I have ever seen appeared stretching from one side of the ocean to another.

I sit around and wonder if Olivia is okay and that day she solidified she was. As much as I needed her to know I loved her, she needed me to know that she knew.

"A lighthouse is a welcoming structure, a reassuring sign of steady ground ahead, and an optimistic symbol of hope for all looking to move forward safely. It is am emblem of strength located at the edge of unpredictable tides as it provides navigational guidance and bright light in a storm. Resilient and immovable, the shining beacon encourages perseverance even in the darkest times."

Blah

You think that true love is the only thing that crush your heart. The thing that will take your life and light it up or destroy it. Then, you become a mother - Meredith Grey

Since Olivia passed away I have been struggling with the fact that I am no longer a mom. I understand I will always be her mother but I am not, nor was I ever a mom. I never changed her diaper, gave her a bath, put clothes on her, calmed her down when she cried or fed her. I couldn't tell you what her tiny butt looked like and I don't remember how she smelled. 

I am the worst kind of mother, I am a mother without her child. I am left to continue to play the what if game like I did during my pregnancy. I feel like I am still waiting her arrival. My brain can't process that she was here and already gone. I catch myself thinking about holidays and how fun they would be with her and have to remind myself those things will never happen. I am forced to relive her death each day and the pain is unbearable. 

I also feel guilty each day. I feel like I failed her as a mother. My only job was to protect her and I couldn't. I couldn't take away her pain and I couldn't stop her from dying. I am a complete failure at the one that I always assumed I would excel at.  I will never be able to apologize to her or make it right. 

I continue to replay my pregnancy, wondering if there was anything I could have done differently. I want so badly to be able to go back and have a redo. I want to go back and unwrap her from her swaddle. I want to examine her tiny toes and fingers. I want to remove her diaper and study her butt. I want to give her a bottle and watch her mouth suck. I desperately need to hear her cry. I want to do anything that makes me be able to say I was her mom. 

I hope that wherever Olivia is she has someone there who is being a mother to her, better than I ever could. I need to think she is being cared for and loved. I hope someone is protecting her for me and that she knows how desperately I wanted to be able to be that person for her. 

As far as me, I hope one day I can pick up the pieces and forgive myself. 

SVU

Today I watched Law & Order: SVU for the first time and it felt like a small victory! I named our Olivia after Detective Olivia Benson. She was everything I hoped our Olivia would grow up to be. She is strong, smart, independent, motivated and kind, not to mention a total badass. I like to think that's exactly who our Olivia would have been. 

She would have gotten her strong work ethic from Rob, as well as a smart sense of math and the ability to budget and save. I would have taught her to treat everyone with respect and kindness, even if it killed her. She would have gotten her generosity and unconditional love from her Nana; and a sweet and loving soul from her Meme. She would have been well spoken with help from her Grandpa ("I thought you were an English Major") and a sense of humor from her Gbob. She would have stolen the show with her robust personality during girls weekend with my sisters and she would have learned how to be a board game champ, as well a semi gracious loser, with her Lala and Aunt Katey. 

While I can't know for certain who she would have grown up to be, I can still pretend like we used to. Rob (not by choice) and I used to play what if Olivia is a/an....engineer, doctor, politician, artist and so forth. Thankfully I was able to get some of my what ifs answered. She used her greatness for her good and I was able to be apart of it. She strengthened relationships, reminded us to never take anything for granted, and to spend as much time as you can with the ones you love. She showed me strength on a level I never know possible. Watching her fight during her three days solidified that she's my own little Olivia Benson, a total badass. 

Missing Out

I miss so many things.

I miss the girl I used to be.

I miss a carefree lifestyle.

I miss relationships I used to have.

I miss reading to Livie and feeling her kick.

I miss our jam sessions.

I miss the future I expected.

I miss the Christmas Spirit.

I miss talking my conversations with Rob about our plans.

I miss walking into her room and playing with her stuff.

I miss the upstairs room filled with baby toys.

I miss having my pre-baby body.

I miss thinking the stretch marks she gave me we're beautiful reminders of how strong I was.

I miss not knowing pain.

I miss not knowing what mitochondria was.

I miss Olivia.


I don't think I will ever stop missing these things. I can only hope that over time the intensity softens and I can be left with a new normal.

I appreciate each and every one of you that reads this blog. My main purpose besides having an outlet is to connect. I am hoping to be able to find someone who can relate to me and find comfort in that friendship.

Holding On To You

Music has a beautiful way of expressing the things we feel and do not know how to put into words.


I started watching Grey's Anatomy from season one when Olivia passed away. I took comfort in watching the families grieve when they lost a loved one. I no longer felt so alone. I listened to mothers scream when they heard the devastating news and it drowned out the screaming I heard in my head.


The moment Olivia was taken from me I heard a terrible scream. I was so angry at the person screaming; how rude to be causing such a scene when my whole life was crumbling around me. Then I realized it was me.  It is one of my most painful memories and one that haunts me the most. I hear myself screaming in my dreams and I wake up in a cold sweat. Its loud, its painful and it is intense. It reminds me of the pain I felt watching the nurse leave the room. A walk that was so simple and unfortunately routine for her wrecked my entire world. She took my future, my hopes and dreams, my baby and walked down the hall, never to be seen again. I was left with nothing but my resounding screams.


Grey's Anatomy helped to block out the screams and focus on the screams of other parents. The pitch, tone and length of the screams all varied but the pain was the same. During one particular scene, a song played in the background and it touched me to my core. The lyrics felt like they were written by my own heart.

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing

With a broken heart that's still beating
In the pain there is healing
In your name I find meaning
So I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on
I'm barely holdin' on to you

I find myself listening to this song when I feel overwhelmed. It puts my feelings into beautiful words and provides me with 4 minutes and 24 seconds of comfort. It helps release the anger and tears that sometimes get trapped behind my facade of being okay. 

Today I ask all of you to listen to this song and think of my Olivia. I try to find meaning in life through her each day. Sometimes I think I am able to see the bigger picture and sometimes I can't see anything but tears. All I can do is hold on to her memory for dear life and pray to God that she is safe, happy and feels loved. 

Lifehouse - Broken

Olivia's Birth Story Part 2

“Ride it like a wave, babe.” Rob was coaching me through intense contractions that were making me seriously question my ability to continue.

“I swear to God, if you say that one more time you will leave this room and not be welcome back.” I managed to snap back through gritted teeth.

I had my mom on my left and Rob on my right. I recall sobbing through contractions, pleading for a break. A few of my contractions peaked twice (Although, it felt like hundreds, contractions do not play) before I was granted a 30 second break followed by the next hellish 90 seconds.

My relief finally came when my nurse decided I had had enough and called in my new best friend, the anesthesiologist. All of my blogs and articles had touched upon the epidural but never really gave it that much attention; I realized why when I found myself bent over, gripping a pillow for dear life, having a full blown meltdown, toddler style.

The nurse had sat Rob in a chair so I could see him but he remained out of the action.

“This is not the time to breakdown, Jess! Try and hold it together for a little while longer!” Rob coached.

“Fuuuuu” I started in between sobs.

“Just scream it!” instructed my nurse.

30 minutes, two meltdowns and one cup of regurgitated pumpkin mac and cheese (a full pumpkin came up, y’all) later I was pain free. I can without a doubt say the epidural was worth every second of misery.

My doctor came to check on us and gave us a run down of his plan. Since I was only 1.5 cm dilated, he was going to start me on Pitocin around 4 AM. He was hoping Olivia would make her arrival by 5 PM on October 3^rd. Upon hearing the news, my parents decided to call it a night and head home to get some rest while Rob and I took a nap, passing the time until my next dilation check at 11 PM.

At exactly 11 PM, my nurse came in apologizing for waking us up and informed me she was going to check me. 8 centimeters dilated and all she could feel was my water.

She was absolutely shocked how quickly I had progressed in about three hours. She told us to go back to sleep before she came in at two for me to start pushing!

I have never experienced an adrenaline rush as strong as the one I experienced when she told me I would be pushing in 3 short hours. Sleep was an absolute joke at this point. Rob and I had some serious decisions to make.

There was a vicious storm and we were just at the beginning of it. We were tracking the storm on the television, debating if we should call our moms. We knew it was unsafe to be on the road but we also knew they would be livid if they missed it. So call we did and they were there within the hour.

I started pushing at 2 AM and I never could have done it without Rob. My contraction monitor was not working well and the nurse taught him how to feel on my stomach for contractions. He was so supportive, kind and cheerful. He would cheer me on for extra pushes, tell me how well I was doing and how much he loved me.

Olivia Buchanan Huber was born on a stormy Friday on morning at 3:26 AM. She weighed 5 lbs 15oz at 19 inches long! She had a head full of gorgeous strawberry blond hair, big brown eyes, Rob’s nose, my chin, and the cutest mouth I have ever seen.

My room quickly filled with our families impatiently waiting to take their turn loving on her.

I saw pride and immense love on Rob’s face as he passed our beautiful daughter to each new visitor. I watched the faces of our moms and sisters melt while they fell under her delicious and addicting spell. I chatted with my dad while he showered her with kisses. She was all ours and she was perfect (with the exception of her unruly eyebrows she unfortunately got from her mother).

Month Two

I had every intention on finishing Olivia’s birth story today, and then my dad called from Italy.

I was sitting in the Walgreen's drive through lane, chatting with him about the time difference, under the assumption today was the second of December. I had been to Office Max where I faxed paperwork to the insurance company. I had written December 2^ND, 2014 multiple times and nobody had corrected me. It wasn’t until my dad told me it was 7 PM on the third in Italy.

Then it happened. The lump in my throat and the burning tears threatening to spill over. As I attempted to verify the address to the pharmacy technician, I could see her demeanor shifting as she tried to complete our transaction as quickly as possible. I had not been able to fight back the tears. Curiosity, concern and bewilderment flashed across her face. They are expressions that have become all too familiar. I see them in the faces of moms pushing their babies past me at Target. Its on the face of the waitress who doesn’t understand, the elderly man in the car next to me at the stoplight and the families at Kroger just trying to get out alive while remembering the milk.

The thing about inconsolable grief is it has a nasty habit of sneaking up on you in the most inopportune moments. It is always the small reminders that cut the deepest.

A few days after Olivia passed away my aunt, sister and I ventured to Target to stock up on soda and snacks. I walked into Target knowing it was going to be difficult. I had wandered the aisles throughout my entire pregnancy thinking about how much more fun it would be when I could bring Olivia.  I walked in beside them and listened to them attempt to make small talk while we made our way to the grocery section. I was looking around while my sister picked out sodas when I spotted it. It was a tiny Memphis Tigers cheer leading outfit complete with bloomers. It was the same uniform that was hanging in her closet at home. Inconceivable sadness, fear, anger and denial stopped me dead and evoked a loud, painful sob I didn’t know was coming. I did not know at the time it would be the first of too many.

Today, our perfect Olivia would have turned two months old.

I should be snap chatting endless outfit options for her two month Instagram photo. Does she want to be casual cute or full glam? (When it doubt, always choose full glam. No self respecting woman wants to be the only one rocking yoga pants when everyone else is in skinny jeans and Frye boots.) I would prop her up in the nursery chair and snap away at the tiny human, slumped over, looking nothing less than perfect. Instead, I am trying to block out the endless reel of memories that threaten to ruin my day. Focus on the good and fake it ‘til you make. These are my survival mantras.

While today is nowhere near the day I envisioned, I am still thankful for it. Eight weeks ago to the day, I met my perfect daughter, Olivia. I held her while memorizing each tiny feature we had created. Today I am striving to remember those memories and promising myself I won’t relive the sad moments until their appropriate days. 

Today is Olivia’s 2 month birthday and anyone as special, amazing and beautiful as she was deserves to be remembered with tears of happiness.

Tonight, I will make dinner for Kelly, Rob and myself and be thankful they are in my life. I will respond to sweet text messages from family and friends letting them know I love them and they are my good. Above all, I will tell my sweet angel that mommy loves her fiercely and I thank God everyday he gave her to me.

Today is her day.

Birth Story Part 1

October 2^nd 2014

My mom and I were frequent visitors of Perkins during my pregnancy, it allowed me to indulge in both sweet and savory food options. I typically was able to squeeze a Target run after as well.

I woke up on the second with a text inviting me to Perkins for some pancakes with my mom. As I was getting ready to leave I felt an uncomfortable cramp that I brushed off. We ate our breakfast and headed to Target to pick up some groceries. I was in the mood to cook dinner for Rob and make a batch of brownies for him to take to work,. I was experiencing a surge of energy. The more aisles I walked down at Target the more I became aware of the uncomfortable cramping becoming more intense and more frequent.

During my pregnancy I read countless articles and blog posts on labor and focused particularly on the symptoms. I was not confident I would know when I was in labor. The articles and blogs drove the fact home that I would know. I also obsessed over knowing when to go to the hospital and when I would be admitted. I was terrified of being the pregnant girl who cried labor. As my due date approached my gynecologist ended each visit with instructions to call if I had a gush of fluid, began bleeding or experienced contractions 5 minutes apart spanning an hour.

I was pulling the brownies out of the oven around nine when a contraction caused me to grab the counter and breathe. At this point I was still assuring myself I was not in labor and attempted to ignore the anxiety that began creeping in.

I made myself a bowl of Kraft pumpkin macaroni and cheese I had scored at Target that morning for lunch and chatted with my friend Kelly, who had been searching the Internet for labor symptoms. Around eleven, I figured I should probably tell Rob I was experiencing contractions. I assured him he did not need to come home but I merely thought he deserved to know what was going on. He promptly kicked out the passengers he was taking to lunch and came home to time my contractions, he was ready to meet our sweet Olivia!

For one hour I took a shower, put on my make up, and did my hair while deep breathing and grunting through increasingly painful contractions. I would shout for Rob as each one came and he recorded the times. As they got increasingly closer and more intense so did Rob’s anxiety. He paced rapidly through the bedroom and bathroom frantically pleading with me to stop doing my hair and get into the car. Unfortunately for Rob, I was not mentally prepared to go into labor and stubbornly refused to leave the house without making sure my hair was perfect; in my mind I was in no hurry to go to the be hospital only to be sent home. I gave my hair one last once over, triple checked to make sure we had everything and off we went. Rob sped through traffic while repeatedly turning on the hazard lights each time I turned them off.

There is always time for photos to my sisters.

I spent two hours in an uncomfortable triage bed writhing in pain, listening to Rob chat away on the phone. Each time I was checked for dilation progress and I remained the same I became panicked they were going to send me home in so much pain. By the grace of God, my doctor was on call and admitted me because my blood pressure getting increasingly higher with each painful contraction. The rush of emotions that came over me while Dr. Chappel, Rob and I chatted about the course of events ahead of us is indescribable. Joy, sadness, anxiousness, fear and excitement rushed over me like a tidal wave all at once, we were going to meet our baby girl.

Rob and I had spent the past 39 weeks and 3 days discussing this moment. The moment we could see whose features she had, how tiny her toes were, and the color of her hair. We would finally feel her warmth and kiss her tiny head. We would feel pride looking at the life we created out of unconditional love. We would meet our future, our new life and the best thing that would ever happen to us. We were about to meet Livie.

Having Rob close made everything doable.

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