Riley

...continued...

I woke up in the middle of the night crying.

The same instant that I realized I had a horrific nightmare, was the same instant that I realized my nightmare was real life.

I fell back asleep only to wake up 40 minutes later in the worst pain.

Intense pain.

Labor.

I woke up Hubby and told him I was hurting.

He jumped up and asked how he could help.

He massaged my back.

He held my hand.

He kissed my forehead.

I labored through the night.

Moaning.

Aching.

Crying.

Breathing.

Praying.

Hurting.

I went to use the restroom.

He followed me.

I told him something was wrong.

I laid down in the middle of our hallway outside the bathroom door.

He helped me up.

He went to check on The Girl.

I yelled to him.

"Something bad is happening! Help me!"

He ran in.

And looked terrified.

A few minutes later, he helped me deliver our baby.

In our bathroom.

At 6:00 AM.

A baby.

Small enough to fit in my hands.

Big enough to curse the doctor who said nothing like this was possible.

Tiny fingers.

And toes.

A tongue in a little open mouth.

Unable to determine the gender.

Beautiful.

Hubby called my mom and she came over a few hours later.

After we spent the morning singing to our baby.

Crying.

Holding the baby in a blanket that a close friend made just for them.

Yellow.

Soft.

Currently tucked away in a white box upstairs.

When my mom came over, she spent time looking at the baby.

Crying.

She said she made an appointment to have the baby cremated.

We had no idea what to do at that point.

I am forever thankful that my mom stepped up when my thought process had stopped.

We went to have the baby cremated.

The funeral director had never seen such a thing.
He was so kind and compassionate.

Everything was free of charge.

No death certificate was necessary.

He doubted we would have ashes to save, but promised he would call with any information he had.

We left.

Without our baby.

But thankful for the chance we had.

To hold.

To cuddle.

To sing.

To take photos.

To weep while holding our angel.

We decided on the name Riley as we went to Things Remembered.

Most people would go home and rest.

I refused to step in my home without having something in my hands.

I left my house holding Riley.

I would not go home empty-handed.

I can't imagine a greater pain.

We had a shadowbox made.

To hold ultrasound photos.

To hold photos of my belly.

The plaque reads:

Riley S--------

February 24th, 2006

The second worst day of my life.

Holding my angel baby somehow took away some of the pain from the day before.

I was broken.

Physically.

Emotionally.

Spiritually.

So many people in pain turn to religion.

I turned my back.

We were moving the following month.

From an apartment to a house.

So that our kids could have their own rooms.

And a yard to play in.

My beautiful nursery turned into a home office.

My marriage became strained.

My mothering skills started to slack.

I was bitter.

Mean.

I would look at pregnant women and burst into tears.

Or hate them.

Honestly, hate them.

How awful of me.

I was so broken that nothing could fix me.

I was 22 and miserable in every aspect.

I filed for divorce.

I avoided my family.
I went out.

I made new friends.

People that didn't look at me with sympathy.

I eventually was talked into counseling by Hubby.

He pleaded.

He begged.

Thank God for him.

I never got the answers I craved.

I eventually healed physically.

I tried to stop hating the world.

I turned to Hubby and let him heal me.

He made so many things better.

He tried to take my mind off of my pain.

We became a happy family of 3 again.

I got a new job as a nanny 8 months later.

That job saved me in so many ways.

Things got better and better.

Nothing got easier.

But things got better.

I became pregnant again.

And miscarried at 6 weeks in early February of 2007.

A month later I was pregnant again.

Nervous and skeptical.

But pregnant.

33 weeks later, The Boy was born.

Healthy.

Happy.

Beautiful.

I have 4 children.

Two of them have wings.

Riley's story is more difficult than our second miscarriage.

But I love all of my children.

Julie has posted words of wisdom like no other.

Words that were told to me by my sweet friend Lori on a day that didn't mark any anniversary.

"I am thinking of you today and remembering your sweet little one."

Julie's words inspired a friend to tell me something so kind and meaningful.

And Julie's story has helped me tell mine.

Please follow her advice:

"Please don't be scared off when you hear about a miscarriage, stillbirth or infant death. Don't feel bad for asking. Don't think that bringing it up will upset the mother. That baby is part of her story. Part of her family. Remember that baby. Because the mother will never forget."

Riley is part of my story.

Part of my family.

Each of my children has a song that I wrote and sing them.

I wish I had Riley to hold while I sing.

"Baby Riley,

If only you could see

How much you were already loved.

We wish you were here

To take away the tears,

But we know that you're up above."

It has been a long road to recovery.

Doctors don't recommend another pregnancy for me.

I have always wanted a large family.

I struggle with the thought of having only 2 children.

Until I see women look at me with that look.

The look I used to give pregnant women.

I have a daughter and a son who I can play with and appreciate everyday...

So I will.