HUGS and the Broken Teddy Bear

On my way home from the hospital after losing Ryleigh I toted on my side a purple bag with a small teddy bear on the front. The symbol of HUGS. The support group that saved my life. Inside of the bag were countless articles and books on living after a stillbirth. Do you really live after it? Can you actually find the courage to wake up and continue life when your entire meaning has been taken from you? I was supposed to be a Mom. I was supposed to bring her home not a purple bag.
I remember reaching in the bag and pulling out an information sheet for a support group called HUGS. I glanced at it and knew I had to attend a meeting. I thought maybe we would find answers to all of our questions, I thought maybe it would help us grieve. What I didn't know was it would help us live.
We arrived at the meeting on a cold Thursday night. It was just rooms down from where we had attended birthing class weeks early. The meeting hadn't started so Jason and I held ourselves up against a wall and watched as people walked by....were they going to? was she pregnant? did they know? crazy how you allow the world to judge you even in terrible times. Across from us in the hall was another couple. Their pain looked real, it looked new and it looked like without any words they would understand our pain. We entered into this small room with about 10 other people and sat quietly waiting for the nurse to come start the meeting. You could tell it wasn't the first time for some, yet it was definitely the first time for us and the couple in the hall. We both sat silient, and holding onto our husbands for dear life.
The meeting began with the expectation that everyone share what they could or wanted. We didn't go first. I couldn't collect my thoughts. I wanted to honor Ryleigh so badly that every detail flew through my brain. The silent couple next to us was up. She spoke her name was JoAnna. Now 4 years later I live for her converation, support and friendship. I remember going home and sharing a few emails with her and it grew from there. We trusted each other to cry when we needed to, be silent when we needed to and to help each other understand that men do not grieve the same way. Since this meeting we have moved three times and now live 100 plus miles from the hospital where Ryleigh was stillborn. We can't attend meetings, we don't attend walks or the garden but I do sit back and watch from a distance at the group. It grows monthly and everytime I see a new name my heart breaks. I only find joy in visualizing this playground in heaven where Ryleigh, Winton and Hannah play and open their arms every time someone new steps on the grass to be with them. Thank you JoAnna for being my friend. Thank you HUGS for showing me how strong women can be. Thank you God for allowing me to make it through and find joy in the two beautiful boys that followed.

What Color Are Her Eyes?

How do I talk about Motherhood without crying and smiling all in the same breath. 4 years ago on Christmas Eve my beautiful daughter Ryleigh Jordan moved from our life here on earth to a place of peace and I so hope joy in heaven. As with every Mom I was anxious every day during her pregnancy. During my first ultrasound I remember the world standing still as I was able to watch this beautiful being inside of me move - what I didn't know was that she would never move in my arms. I remember driving to every doctor appointment for nine months anxiously awaiting the sound of her heartbeat - little did I know I would never feel it pound against me as I held her tight. I remember stopping on December 21st and knowing something was wrong. I tried to convince myself I was just paranoid. After all I was nine months along. NOTHING should happen now! I had an appointment the next morning and knew I would tell the doctor that I felt different, that I hadn't felt her flipping around and reminding me that she too was anxious to meet me. I remember going to the internet and searching for answers about her not moving and it said STILLBORN. Again that can't happen to me. The pregnancy had been great, I had taken care of myself and followed the doctors orders. The next morning at 10am my life changed. I went in sat up on the table and pulled my shirt up so the nurse could check the heartbeat. She couldn't find it. She slowly walked out of the room and returned with not one but TWO doctors. They took me into ultrasound - assuring me along the way they just wanted to make sure it was alright. It wasn't. Within seconds of rolling the wand across my stomach the doctors both looked at each other. The look on their faces made the room close in on me.....I couldn't breath, I couldn't smell, I couldn't see anything. I could only hear them say "her heart has stopped". I must have sat there for for what seemed hours but only minutes in denial. I didn't move until my doctor picked me up and carried me to his office. He said "Kim, you need to call your husband. We are taking you to the hospital immediately". I picked up the phone and as my husband answered knowing there was no way around what I needed to say, I simply said "Jason Ryleigh died". I don't remember a thing after that until I arrived through the staff doors at the hospital. They took me through every back door there was and onto the birthing unit to the last room at the end of the hall. On the door an 8 x 11 piece of paper. On it a teddy bear with a broken heart. I remember seeing the paper but not realizing the symbol would not only mean something remarkable in my life but also allow me to survive this awful moment. Jason arrived within the hour. I didn't move from the chair that they sat me on when I arrived. I didn't say anything to him. I just cried. How could I let him down like this? What about her beautiful nursery how could I go home to it? How could I call my parents and tell them their only grandchild has left this life for the next? How could I go back to work and confront everyone? How could I live past this moment?
The doctors soon arrived and discussed the next steps with us. For my safety they suggested they induce and I deliver her naturally. I thought to myself HELLO are you CRAZY. She isn't alive. Looking back now I wouldn't change it for the world. I got to make peace with her, my body, have her baptisted while in the womb and spend the next 48 hours coming to terms that my daughter was going home in a casket not a carseat. Had I elected to have a C section it would have been over so quickly that I don't know how I would have coped with the anger, fear, pain and hatred I was experiencing.
Ryleigh Jordan came into this world Christmas Eve 2004. It was the most beautiful winter day. After hours of labor I had still hoped that they were wrong. That she would take this big breath and cry - she didn't. She was a beautiful healthy baby girl. I am blessed to have held her in my arms and only miss that she could never look up at me and show me what color of eyes she would have had. She was buried at the foot of my Grandfather's grave on my 36th Birthday. I know my Grandfather has now witnessed her beautiful eyes and smile. I know he was told her what a wonderful Mom I would have been. I know she is somewhere unseen hand in hand with him knowing that her Mommy misses her every day and loves her very much. I have to believe this to go on. And now I have to face the world without her.