Friday, November 7, 2014

a year later

A year ago today, our first daughter was born. At long last, I was a mom. For two and a half days. And then I wasn't.

I've never known how to refer to Ellison since then. It doesn't feel right to call her my daughter- because she isn't. She was, but now she isn't- she's someone else's daughter. But she was more than just a maybe-baby or our almost-baby...she was our baby for those days. And November 7, 2013 was the first of them. We were there when she was born; I watched through happy tears as Matt cut her umbilical cord. Those are the things that parents do- those were moments we thought we would treasure forever. The foundation to build a lifetime of memories upon. But then...we couldn't. 

It's hard to know how I feel about that whole experience now. A friend asked me about it the other day- it was the first time anyone's asked me about it in a long time. She asked if I felt like I had healed from that loss, how I felt when I thought back on it- and then she immediately apologized and said "don't answer if it's too hard, this is probably totally inappropriate to even bring up." But it wasn't. As I told her- it no doubt would have been much more painful to discuss if I weren't sitting there with my forever child sleeping in my arms. I know that becoming Camilla's mother has healed my heart in ways I never would have imagined- absolutely, if I were still sitting here waiting to become a mommy, her question would have been infinitely more painful. We chatted for awhile, but I found that I really didn't know how to adequately sum up how I now feel about losing Ellison. To be honest, if I'm sitting around contemplating stuff, it's a lot more enjoyable to contemplate the good stuff- my life right now- and brush the hard stuff to the deep recesses of my memory. But sometimes it's healthy to pull out the hard stuff and process, so I've been doing some of that lately. 

It's hard to describe how I feel, but I imagine it's very similar to what someone who experiences a miscarriage and then goes on to later get pregnant and deliver and raise a child feels. There's the obvious fact (in our case and probably in many cases where the two pregnancies occurred in a relatively short time frame) that if the first child hadn't been lost, the second one never would have come into existence. And while we are obviously absolutely freaking in love with Camilla and infinitely grateful for the gift of parenting her- I don't know, something about that perspective still rubs me a little bit wrong. I've typed and erased 40 different attempts at trying to explain what I mean, but nothing is coming out right- words, why do you fail me now?! I guess it feels like when you look at it from the 'losing X meant you gained Y, so it's fine' perspective, it kind of feels like 'the end justifies the means,' and that just feels really wrong. Also- I totally recognize that our loss was exactly that- our loss. I am not trying to imply that Ellison lost anything- as far as I know (and I hope and pray), she is being loved and cherished by her family every single day. So none of my ruminating is from the perspective that she lost out on some great life with us- not at all. And I am also not trying to equate our losing her with those who lose children to death- again, not at all the same type of loss. I just imagine that many of the emotions (and practical experiences) on my end are the same, and since far more people experience pregnancy loss than failed adoptions...it's just a comparison that flows pretty easily.

I'm writing and thinking in weird circles. If you're still trying to follow...good luck.

And so I've had a year to think and to mourn and to process and to grieve. Not shockingly, more healing has been accomplished in the last three months than in the first nine.

(Also, please check that timeline- Camilla was likely conceived the same week that Ellison was born. Tell me that doesn't make you raise an eyebrow. While I was drowning in tears, my forever baby was being knit together in her first mother's womb...)

I think about Ellison often. I wonder what she looks like, if she's still tiny for her age, if she is still called Ellison. I wonder how her mom is- how she ended up handling the many challenges that she was facing, how she has healed from the unusual and probably painful situations surrounding her daughter's birth and first few days of life. When I think about those days we spent together, I feel sad and a little bit sick, but I don't fall to pieces anymore. Again- I think that has more to do with the daughter in my arms and less to do with my amazing emotional health, but it's something.

She was born on 11/7/13. I was so incredibly excited because it was a date with all prime numbers. I love prime numbers- whenever I play the lottery, I pick prime numbers. I set my alarm (minute) times to be prime numbers (6:23 a.m. for the win!). So when she was born on an all-prime date, it seemed like such a sign. What're the odds? (No, seriously. Math geniuses: what ARE the odds?)  But then...everything happened, and instead of 11/7 being a day of excitement and joy, now it's a day that reminds me of the deepest pain I've ever experienced. 

I've rambled on for far too long, and I really have no conclusion. Today is her birthday. I miss her, but I feel weird doing that because somehow that seems insulting to Camilla, you know? And I don't want that. I am so grateful for sweet Millie. She is the child of my heart, an expression that doesn't even make sense but that comes into my brain every single day when I look at her. When I look back at a year ago and I consider what we went through, I'm most in awe of the fact that we survived. I didn't die, even though I felt like I would on many days...even though that doesn't even make sense, either. I didn't lose my mind or go insane or lose all hope or drown in my bitterness, although all of those things seemed possible at one time or another. I didn't do drugs! (Can I get a gold star?) It's just weird to live through something you really never thought you could. And I remember that in the days and weeks following our loss I said I could never go through this again. The pain is too much; it isn't worth it. And I thought that most likely I would not consider adoption again. Too hard. Not worth it.

But about four months later, I found that I was able to consider it. And two months after that, it was time to really decide: take a chance with another match? Or play it safe and avoid the potential pain. And some reckless part of me said to hell with it and said yes to J. And then for three months I worried every single day that I was setting myself up for another excruciating loss...was there any possible outcome that justified risking such pain?

As it turns out, the answer is yes. I feel like I'm saying this a lot lately, but Camilla is worth it. 

Happy birthday, little Ellison. I'm sure we'll never meet again, but the two and a half days I spent with you changed me forever. I pray often that you are happy and healthy and surrounded with love. And I really hope that you appreciate your amazing all-prime birth date, you lucky duck.

30 comments:

  1. It's good to talk about loss. Praise God that He was with you and gave you the strength to do open your heart again. I pray that Ellison has a great first birthday!

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  2. I love this. And I followed all of it. I, too, hate the 'losing X meant you gained Y, so it's fine' argument. I think Christians use it a lot to make it sound like God didn't fail us, but I don't think it's necessary or helpful. You lost Ellison. It was awful. And it was unfair. And that was like a death, and God endured that death with you, but he has brought a redemption and a resurrection of sorts through Camilla. And you can rejoice in that while mourning the loss, just like we mourn the crucifixion of Christ and yet celebrate the resurrection (a Y that would not have happened without X).

    We had a miscarriage last February, after 6.5 hard, hard years of infertility. It was so awful and so unfair. But this coming February, our daughter will be born. I'm not sure how I'll process that or hold those two things together in my heart, but I imagine it will be a lot like you are in this post.

    I've loved your blog so much lately! Reading how the Lord is redeeming your story through Camilla is helping me process my own redemptive story. And I just love it so much.

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  3. Erika, there are no words to describe both the incredible sadness and overwhelming joy I took away from this. It's hard to believe that it's already been a year since Ellison's birth, but at the same time, it feels like forever ago that our hearts shattered with the news of your loss. Yours is most definitely a story of strength and redemption; you, your words, and your forever family truly are something beautiful to behold. Happy Birthday, Ellison.

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  4. This is a beautiful post!! I often thought of you in the early days of your loss, and it was heart breaking. I was both excited and nervous when you announced that you had been matched again, and breathed a huge sigh of relief (and she some happy tears) when Camilla became yours. I'm so glad she is helping to heal your heart, and I hope that you do get to meet Ellison one day (way down the road) so you can see how she made out. God has a plan, and your story is such a strong testament to that. Thank you for sharing this post, I have been wondering how you have been feeling now that you have Camilla in your life.

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  5. So beautiful. And really, I got all of it. No matter how a baby enters out family, she/he will be worth it, absolutely, without a doubt, worth everything we've been through and all $20,000+ we've spent. But that doesn't for one second mean I wouldn't go back and take my first babies. The heart doesn't work that way... it's not an either/or scenario. It's a yes, it's an and. Yes, I will take that first baby, AND the second, AND still want the one that we finally get... they will all be my children. Even though Ellison didn't die, I see how it mirrors that idea. She was there, she was yours, you had hopes and dreams and plans and then it was all gone. That's pretty much exactly what I've experienced every time that beta came back positive or that stupid strip showed two lines.

    So thankful that the last three months have been healing. SO thankful the Lord brought you Millie BEFORE this day. Hug Camilla today, and we'll all pray with you that Ellison's mom is hugging and loving on her today.

    Happy Birthday, Ellison.

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  6. Beautifully put. Praying for everyone today and especially Ellison.

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  7. Thank you for posting this. Even though we've never met, I feel a connection to you. You are the only one I know who has experienced the same type of loss as us (and you are SO right, there is no way to describe it so others can relate). We are still in the "we can never do that again" phase. I don't know if we will ever come out of it, or if God has another plan for us. The pain will always be there, at least a little bit, because this loss is a part of me now, but I am clinging to the hope that God is up to something amazing. Waiting for it is the hardest part.

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  8. Such a beautiful and heartfelt post! Happy Birthday, Ellison!

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  9. This is so beautiful, and it is a pain and joy I haven't experienced, but am inspired by your ability to share pieces of yourself about it, truly amazing. Happy Birthday little Ellison!!

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  10. Happy Birthday sweet Ellison. Your post and feelings in generally absolutely make sense. And your strength to go on is an inspiration and your happiness a motivation. Sending all of you love on this day and the rest that follow.

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  11. I have also always felt uncomfortable with the logic that you had to lose one child in order to get another. Am I happy that you have Camilla and I have Avery? Of course! But in a perfect world, I wish you could also have Ellison and I could also have the baby I lost (not that my miscarriage and your failed adoption are the same thing - just going with your analogy here). Both our girls are sweet stories of redemption though, that's for sure!

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  12. I agree with other commenters. . . your emotions make total sense here. And you display your feelings so beautifully in this post. I think it will be natural for feelings of loss and grief relating to Ellison to come and go, ebb and flow, even as Camilla grows and ages. Just because you have Camilla now doesn't mean you won't ever hurt again for Ellison. (Different experience but I still get sad thinking about Clara's twin that we lost).

    Happy b-day baby Ellison!

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  13. Oh you got my tears going... I've actually been thinking about Ellison lately (for some reason) and wondering about her too. I love your story of redemption in adoption. You are strong and Camilla is so lucky! Love you girl!

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  14. Thank you, as always, for your honesty, as there is no doubt someone out there struggling with the loss of her own child that hasn't yet gotten to the "rainbow" that might (or might not!) come after, and it's important to remember that the first child was/is significant regardless of what did/did not come after. Lots of love to you!

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  15. Thank you for such a heartfelt post. I agree that you have every right to mourn and remember your first child. You had a loss. The fact that you're now a mom to a gorgeous little girl doesn't cancel out that loss, the what-ifs, the wondering. Many hugs to you! And I pray Ellison and her birthfamily are happy and healthy on her first birthday.

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  16. There's are reason Mikkie was conceived around the time Ellison was born. The girls have a bond...not just you and Matt, but each other. From the moment of conception Millie was intended to be your daughter. You have a beautiful story with a happy ending.

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  17. Beautiful, Erika. Happy Birthday sweet Ellison.

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  18. Beautiful post. I think you put the loss of Ellison into perfect words. Hoping and praying that she is doing well. Happy Birthday Ellison. I hope hugging Camilla especially today helps heal your heart.

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  19. Tears, tears, tears! I'm so happy for your happy ending- that you are able to look forward without as much pain, thanks to your sweet forever baby girl!

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  20. I just happened to come here and just happened to read this ... and I just wanted to tell you that it really does make sense. Even though she is alive and living somewhere else, it's painful and she's gone from you, so that's heartbreaking and devastating. I heard the same things very often when I suffered through 2 miscarriages (between my second and 3rd living children and then after my third before my 4th living child) ... I knew those babies. My babies. No reasoning by other people filled the hole they left. It's something other people can't understand, I guess. I also wanted to tell you that your daughter is SO beautiful and, as a mother, I am so happy when other mothers become who they are meant to be through their children. Congrats! Also, random, but my 3rd daughters name is Ellis (from Ellison) ... and my son was born last year on November 7 at 6:23 am. Whoa ;)

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  21. SO beautiful. Your comparison between your loss of Ellison and a miscarriage makes perfect sense. If one loss hadn't happened then you wouldn't have the baby you have...but somehow you just want them both! Thanks for sharing your heart.

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  22. Thanks for sharing these feelings. I do beleive there was a connection between Ellison's birth and Millie's conception. So funny I'm anti prime numbers! When we started this process, I really wanted the baby to be born in 2012, as I was born in 1976, also a Leap Year. I would have been 36, which is a square number, and I didn't like the thought of having a baby born in 2013, unlucky 13, and I would have been 37, a prime number. I was also hoping for a due date of 3/14/15, as that is Pi Day out to four places! But... I realised I had to give up any volition for a certain date...

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  23. Ugh I'm crying. Millie is the child of your heart. It makes perfect sense to me! It must be so hard not knowing anything about how Ellison is doing. I cannot imagine. You and Matt are so strong and you absolutely deserve a good star for not becoming drug addicts or alcoholics through all this (can I get one too? I might have drunk too much red wine to earn mine...)

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  24. You are such a beautiful writer. What a hard time to come back to and pour out your thoughts and feelings, but you did it so well and with such grace.

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  25. All I can say is I completely understand where you are coming from... My miscarriage was and still is the most painful experience I've ever been through. Of course we have our precious boy now, but every October I think about how I "would have" had a 2 year old now... it's hard to put into words and I know your pain was great... I think in the end, all these things will be for our greater good and we'll have a better understanding of the why in heaven.

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  26. Blessings upon blessings on Ellison on her birthday. Can't even imagine how much you miss her. Thanks for talking about her again in this space.

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  27. Erika, thank you for sharing this thoughtful, heart wrenching, honest, peace-filled post with us. I often think of Ellison, wonder how she is doing, and how you are feeling about her time with you now. I hope Ellison had a happy, joyful, first birthday with her family.

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  28. Goodness. I feel like you are writing my heart. It's been 3 years since our adoption failed and I still think of him as my son. I wonder where he is all the time and I'm still grieving him. I have my daughter and I'm so thankful for her life, but her life for his isn't the right answer. It isn't even the right equation, really. Life is so messy and situations like what you went through, and what I went through, make it even messier. I don't have any answers but I will say that what happened to you sucks and I'm sorry.

    Also, I'm sending you a virtual hug from NC.

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  29. Somehow I missed this post until now and I have read it a few times this morning and still don't know what to say other than that I so appreciate your honesty and how you tackle these hard (that word does not do them justice) questions and feelings and struggles. I am not in the same situation, but we lost a daughter last year at Christmas and I am now due with our second... at Christmas. And she wouldn't have been conceived if L had lived... and if she is born living and healthy, I know my heart will just be bursting with joy, but I will always wonder what L would have been like and what this year would have been like with her. All I am really saying is thank you for sharing.

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