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My second child and our first daughter, Camille, died and was born on June, 30 2011 when I was full term at 38 weeks pregnant. I gave birth to my rainbow baby, a second daughter, on August 31, 2012. This is me trying to figure out how to be a mother to my living son and daughter and function in society after our tragic loss.

Thursday, June 28, 2012

Thursdays

I'm up again, crying. You see it is Thursday and on this Thursday last year I gave birth to my daughter. For some reason the day of the week has always been particularly hard. At first it was every Thrusday, than it was the last Thursday of each month. Now as her birthday approaches, where does my Thursday fit in?

This week has been filled with tears, multiple times a day. Late nights, no sleep, waking and crying. It is Summer here and our lavender colored crape mertle tree is in bloom once again. I remember last year watching as the tiny pink blossoms would flutter to the ground, thinking how it seemed fitting that it was the earth's form of pink baby tears. It is 12:30am and I went outside to sit and listen to our fountain, the mocking birds that don't know it's time for sleep and be out in the cool air. I had this urge to walk down the street in my nightgown, bare footed in the halfmoon light looking for my daughter. I still feel like I've lost her somewhere, she just needs to be found.

I was thinking about chimpanzees and how grieving mothers keep their dead babies with them...here is an excerpt from Science Now:
"In a second example of chimpanzee grieving, a research group led by Dora Biro, a zoologist at the University of Oxford in the U.K., observed two chimp mothers carrying the remains of their dead infants for weeks. The observations were made in the forests of Bossou, Guinea, where primatologists have been studying wild chimps for 3 decades. In 2003, an epidemic of respiratory disease broke out at Bossou, killing five chimps. Two were infants, 1-year-old Jimato and 2-year-old Veve. The mothers of the infants carried their dead bodies around on their backs for 68 and 19 days, respectively, even as they dried out and became mummified. They brushed flies away from the babies, groomed them regularly, and allowed other chimps—including other young animals—to poke at the bodies, lift their limbs, and even carry them around for short distances."

This makes TOTAL sense to me. Holding my daughter and kissing her soft skin and telling her how much I love her for that evening and half of the next day are all I will ever get to have. I remember knowing it was time to let her go...but I would have felt much better about taking her home with me and carrying her around. Once they are gone, it is forever. I will not be able to touch her, kiss her, stroke her soft pale skin, ever again.

When Kai and I meditate we say that all the sadness, madness and badness that we breathe out turns itno bright white sparkling light and goes out into the universe, leaving room inside of us for more love, peace and joy. I wish I could breathe all this sadness out but my breath feels stiffled and caught in my throat with a sob and short inhalations.

Grief is so convoluted, sometimes it is anger or physical pain, sometimes it is disbelief, sadness, despair, sometimes it is about trying to find hope as we muddle through the thickness of loss....but in the end it all comes back to love. I miss my daughter so much. I could say it a thousand times over but it does not seem to encompase the ache and longing that my soul feels. My tears seem hardly enough for the magnitude of loss. I love and so I am broken. I love and so I am sad. I will always love Camille with all of my heart and I just miss her so incredibly much.

And so it is Thursday. Was she dead already at this time? I didn't know until 3:00am that I couldn't feel movement. It had been 5 hours since I last felt her move, at 10pm before I went to sleep. I hope she felt my love. I hope somehow, in someway that she knew the extent of my love was and is beyond measure. I miss Camille with every fiber of my being and today, this Thursday morning., it is particularly present.

35 comments:

  1. Thinking of you as the date approaches. One year. So hard. I hope with all I have that it gets easier for you to breathe after you get through this milestone. That's how it was for me and many others, I have heard. Easier to breathe but not easier. But still, easier to breathe, and we will take what we can get, right? I have been thinking of you since reading your last post bc I know how hard this time is. I am approaching two years, and the grief is getting heavy again. It's like processing the magnitude of these dates passing weighs heavily bc it becomes so real that we have been without our children for SO long. Inconceivable. Lots of love to you.

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  2. My heart goes out to you at this difficult time... sweet angelversary to your dear Camille. She most definitely felt your never-ending love then and now. Thinking of you and love to you both always xoxo

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  3. You're in my thoughts all week. That painfully slow crawl to the first birthday just about killed me. It was littered with memories and thoughts of what could had and what should have been.
    xo

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  4. Oh god Renel, yes to all of this. I don't cry too often these days but the past few I've been caught sniffling and sobbing and I don't really know why. Sharing some tears with you and sending lots of love.

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  5. I gave birth two years ago today and like you said I just want to hold my baby longer as once they are gone its forever and forever is so painful sometimes.

    Lots of love to you. I'm sure Camille felt all of the love you gave her and still does.

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  6. Oh, Renel, I'm crying with you. Remembering Camille on her birthday week, holding you in my heart right now. That chimpanzee story gave me chills, and also a bit of jealousy. I wish I could have carried her until she mummified and that is so morbid and weird, I can't believe I wrote it. Love you. xo

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  7. Your love for Camille is so beautiful and my heart breaks again for the loss of her. Peace to you during these difficult anniversary days.

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  8. Oh Renel. I am so, so sorry. What a tough week for you. I also having a feeling that my little girl is only lost somewhere and, if I looked hard enough, perhaps I might get her back. Which sounds mad. Perhaps I am just a little mad these days?

    And I have to believe that they felt our love, that somehow they knew how wanted they were, how anticipated they were, how much we loved them. I'm sure that Camille felt your love surrounding her, vast and warm and unending x

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  9. Everything you wrote really rings true even as I sit 18 months out. Hoping once you pass this milestone you will be able to breathe a little easier. Many thoughts of strength being sent your way this week.

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  10. Oh love. Shedding tears for you and your gorgeous girl. Hard to believe it is nearly a year ago that Angie first told us your story. The searching, wanting to feel her tangible presence - makes so much sense to me. As hard and as horrible as it is, sometimes that sadness has to be well and truly felt before it can be breathed out - but for me actually letting myself properly feel it took so long. Sending love xxxxxxh

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  11. Thinking of you during this tough week. May peace and comfort be yours as your mourn what should have been.

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  12. We call the day Eva died her 'heaven day'. Eva's first birthday was 2 months after she died. We had cake for her and the boys sang happy birthday while I cried.

    I understand you when you say that all the tears cannot encompass the magnitude of your loss. I know honey. This is a hard day, plain and simple. It will always be a hard day and your Camille will always be in your heart. I hope for some peace for you today because the wish I really have for you, the wish I have for me and for every bereaved mama that I know is the wish we all want but that cannot come true.
    Sending you love and hope Renel.
    Em

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  13. I can relate to the chimpanzee story, it holds so true. I stayed in the palliative care home with Jack overnight and the next day as well. I wanted so much to take him home.
    I'll be thinking of you and Camille.xoxoxox

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  14. I remember getting home from the hospital without Eliza and sobbing to David that I wish we could have brought her with us anyway. I just needed to hold her, and I couldn't believe how deep that need was. The days approaching her birthday were so dark and ugly for me, and I think it was another couple of months before I emerged from that place. Sending you love and light.

    And although I question almost everything, there's no doubt in my mind that our babies knew they were loved.

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  15. Grief is so convoluted... but in the end it comes back to love.

    Absolutely. My gosh, absolutely.

    The description of holding your daughter and the comparison to the chimpanzees is so striking. To think Andrew's soft skin, sweet body, and beautiful features will never be touched again because they are ashes-- they are no longer there to touch, saddens me beyond belief.

    We grieve because we love. These days are hard. We're all here in love and definitely supporting you through this.

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  16. thinking of you, I felt similar things leading up to and on Kayla's anniversary dates. For me, it was a relief to get through them, but it also meant that all of the milestones were done, and I've had a hard time connecting to my grief since then. I love what you wrote about it always coming back to love, and just missing our babies. You will make it through these tough days!

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  17. I completely identify with having a hard time with day of the week that your daughter died. Tuesdays. Oh. Tuesdays. If there is going to be a day where I fall apart, it is Tuesday. Unequivocally. My daughter died on a Tuesdays and I still feel like I can count my life since Ava died in Tuesdays. The anniversary then combined with "the day" of the week is just hard.

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  18. Sending light and love, always.

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  19. I connected to this so much Renel. We're approaching the date that I ruptured and was rushed to the hospital last year, and while I was still able to hold onto to Liam for another month, it is the beginning of the end.

    "in the end it all comes back to love" - So true.

    I'm thinking about you and Camille every day, i'm holding you both so tightly in my heart. x

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  20. Camille knew, Renel; she did.

    I will light a candle for her and you on Saturday.

    Be gentle with yourself.
    ~Cava

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  21. There is no doubt in my mind that our babies know how much we will always love them. I know your sweet Camille knows your love for her. I believe that with all my heart.

    Wishing you lots of peace and remembering your sweet girl with you.

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  22. "I remember last year watching as the tiny pink blossoms would flutter to the ground, thinking how it seemed fitting that it was the earth's form of pink baby tears."

    How utterly sad...I'm so sorry for you. I'm so sorry for your family. I'm so sorry for Camille.

    As Sally puts it "That painfully slow crawl to the first birthday just about killed me." Same here. That raw, flayed feeling comes straight back - the horror and enormity of what happened renewing the grief.

    It's overwhelmingly sad.

    Take care Renel - your Camille is remembered all over the world. xx

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  23. My heart hurts reading this. One year. It does not seem possible that it has moved this fast. Thinking of you sending peace and love.

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  24. So much love to you, mama. Remembering your beautiful Camille this week especially. xoxo

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  25. She absolutely felt your love. She knew your tender dedication.

    Thinking of you and Camille constantly this week.

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  26. Thinking of you today (always, of course, but today especially). A year without Camille is so cruel. I hope you are able to spend today with your family, loving and grieving yet celebrating the time you had with Camille. She is watching over you and she knows how much you love and miss her.

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  27. Sending you so much love! Happy birthday to your sweet girl! There is nothing in the whole world that I know more intensely than the fact that our babies felt complete love their entire lives!

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  28. Thinking of you and Camille today.

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  29. Thought of you throughout the day today. You and sweet Camille. I wish things were different, Renel. I also totally get the whole chimpanzee thing.... and in many ways reading that was not only interesting but healing. We are mammals... these animals hold on to their babies for as long as possible. It makes us remember that us holding on in anyway that we can is completely normal as well.
    Sending big hugs to you. I hope that you feel Camille around you today. xoxo

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  30. I am reading this long after Thursday and hoping you have experienced a little lightening in the last few days. Like the others, I'm sure she knew. Love to Camille and your family and hope for easier days for you ahead...

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  31. I wish I could have carried Molly around for longer, too.

    I'm so, so sorry. Thinking of you and your sweet Camille, and sending so much love. xo

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  32. I know this Thursday feeling all too well and I'm so sorry you're still without your Camille. The lead up to the year was perhaps the sharpest pain we felt other than in the beginning.

    And damn those lucky chimps. I would have liked to to the same. It still kills me that she was in the hands of strangers for five days until her ashes were handed back to me. I wish a continent of wishes that I could have at least stayed with her until her body burned.

    Love and peace to you in these days ahead. The emotions of subsequent and grief are almost too much to bear some days. And Downton Abby was one of the shows that got Kari to the end of the third pregnancy. :)

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  33. Happy Belated Birthday little Camille.

    I hope that since Camille's birthday, the grief has started to lift even if only a little bit.

    "I still feel like I've lost her somewhere, she just needs to be found." Exactly. I walk through rooms and think, oh, this will be Teensy's room (my nickname for Nathaniel because at 6 lbs 3 oz he seemed so teensy). And it takes me a minute to remember that no, Teensy doesn't need his own room.

    Sending so much love
    xoxoxo

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  34. I don't know what to say to mark Camille's special day, Renel. I started reading your blog for the first time last night, and I haven't stopped until I caught up just now. I feel like I've just shared a year of your life in one day. One year is such a long time, but it is no time at all, as well. It's so hard to make sense of time after your baby dies - when birthdays and dying days become one and the same thing to you. Thank you for offering this special place to strangers, like, me. I will remember Camille with you, always.

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