On this day...

A year ago, on this day, Piper Grace left this earth.  I was aching, body and soul. The "worst case" had finally caught us, our fears realized, our grief began...a year ago today.  The drive home from the hospital the night Piper died, I remember being quiet. Silent with a million questions running through my mind.   "What do we do now?"   "Did that just happen?"   "Will we be ok?"   "How much worse will this hurt?"   "How long? How long will this hurt?" Piper's entire life, starting in utero, we planned to lose her. We planned, not knowing the day or hour, but we hoped, we loved her, celebrated her, learned from her and still planned for her to leave us. We prepared our hearts for the day they would break, not knowing how shattered we would feel. Shattered. What a perfect word for how her departure felt.  Here I sit, a year later, shattered still - but glued together with the love and support Matt and I have received. Glued together by the awe we have in how Piper's story has touched others. Thank you, for loving us this year, for remembering our sweet girl, for helping us through. I truly believe our family was touched by God's Grace during this time. When anyone said "I can't even imagine how you cope..." the answer is GRACE. How fitting, right? Grace. Yes a year has passed, we have lived and loved and learned some things. I look back and am proud of our strength. Our hearts have endured turmoil, and yet we survived. It's allowed me to view life's struggles with a different lens. There's not much I fear I can't handle. My heart can handle it. Bring it on, life! Thanks, Pipes, for teaching us to stress less, and conquer more! I'm proud of my marriage. I've never been more grateful that I married by best friend. In the midst of our NICU journey, the man next to me wasn't just my husband of 10 years. As my heart shattered, I turned to the 15 year old boy that was my best friend. He held me up. He knew my strength and reminded me of it. He wiped my tears, validated our decisions, and was our rock. Matthew Jarvis, I love you as my husband, but you, as my life long friend, was what got us through. I'm so proud of us.  I'm grateful for the teaching moments Piper's life and death has afforded me. Tallan Hope has been so receptive to chats about death, Heaven, God, Jesus; and I am thankful for her frank and curious mind.  I've spoken to a few groups, strangers, starbucks patrons, anyone really...about Piper Grace. The biggest lesson I've learned this year, is that I DO NOT HAVE TO KNOW how Piper will touch others' lives. I am here merely to share her story, and watch as she affects so many people in so many different ways. I think many people ask "why did this have to happen?" or the dreaded "everything happens for a reason," and I sigh and say that I do not need to know why. There's no ONE why, right? Think of how Piper's life has affected you. There are a million different ways she's touched you all, and it's my single most favorite thing to hear about.  Yes, Piper Grace Jarvis died a year ago, on this day. Matt and I kind of made a point not to build up expectations for this day. No rehearsal of emotions we assumed we'd have. No grave site to tend to. No balloons to release. We chose to acknowledge this day quietly as a family, and contemplate how far we've come in this past year.  A year ago, this day sucked; but the day she left us seems insignificant when compared to the day she arrived, the days we loved her, the days she taught us. I will be grateful for ALL the days I had with Piper Grace, even this one.  (Pics following are of our final hours with Piper.)

 

Sharing Truth

People say that I am brave, but I'm not.
Truth is, I'm barely hanging on...

The above statement couldn't be more true in this moment. Like I've said before, I am so touched by music on this journey, and if you haven't listened to I Will Carry You, by Selah, please take a few minutes to do that. It is the most perfect 4 minutes of a song I feel tells our story so well. Go ahead...I'll wait.

When I sit down to blog, I've usually had a topic in mind for a few weeks. I've rolled it around in my head, considered its message, polished my thoughts and usually have processed the feelings involved before even sitting to type. Bear with me...because tonight is no such blog.

To share my heart in real time is a very vulnerable position for me; but today, in the span of about 10 minutes, I was flooded with emotions that I need to get out. About an hour ago, I shared a couple pictures of Pipes. Pictures I hadn't seen, but when I look at them, I could immediately tell you what was going on in our NICU journey when they were taken....and it's not what you think. You can "like" and comment about that sweet sweet baby snuggling her lovies; but I know the truth behind the pictures.

What you don't know: is how much I had to edit these pictures to feel ok to post them. The unedited pictures brought up a slew of memories of where we were last year...quietly suffering through the hardest time of our life. You see, my grief didn't start the day Piper Grace died. I have actually been pretty proud that I've been able to live, hold my head up, and give back the way we have in the months since June 2015. 

Tonight reminded me that my grief, the dirty ugly shitty grief that sneaks up on you and grabs your throat...reminds you that life isn't normal...THAT grief - started this same time last year. 

Tonight I realized that my journey with grief may hit a tough tough patch...starting now. I grieve the conversations we had to make. I grieve the feeling of losing a battle while my child was still alive, I grieve this time of year because of the word "de-escalation."

Last year, this is when it hit the fan. When Piper cued us in that her journey on Earth may not have meant to be long. When we had to be honest with ourselves, and agree that we needed to be ok with letting her say goodbye. This time of year sucks. March. April. May. All months we struggled with grief as we watched poor Pipes get bluer and bluer. We prayed that her time here wasn't for nothing. We let go of our selfish need to keep her here for us. This time last year, we gave it to God and Pipes - we relinquished control, we let her be...and waited for her farewell. 

If you have ever had to do that...it's the suckiest thing ever, waiting for someone to exit this world, knowing it's best for them...but your heart is breaking at the thought of it. These pictures today, reminded me of my loss of control. My start of the ugly grief...and that scary wait.

Here is my sweet sweet baby, last March. UNEDITED. The difference in her color might not seem too vast for you, but they remind me of the end of our Earthly fight; and regardless of the good that has come of this, it's still damn hard to remember coming to the realization that her body was too tired. Sweet, peaceful, tired Pipes...teaching us.

               

I'm really unsure that this post even has a point, other than to be real and share a struggle a fellow mom might be having. If I'm making no sense, I apologize. (Not really, I make perfect sense to myself, so who cares! HA!)

Maybe the point is: it's 100% OK to NOT be OK! Let's be honest with ourselves, kind to our fragile hearts and minds, and remember that any journey in this life is NOT on a straight road.
To be clear, my effing journey is on a dirt road, covered in cow poop and pot holes, with blind curves and tummy turning hills...but I'm ok with that. Word.

Realizing "Everyone's Here!" will never be a thing. Ever.

I've had this blog on my mind for a while now; and like always, I've had to swirl it around in my head for weeks before actually typing. I miss you guys! Ok, here goes.

It has been 5 months of navigating this grief thing. The weird path that has no directions, instructions, or ANY clearly marked route for that matter. Screw that. Screw grief.

I've realized, that I, like any momma thrust into the loss of a child, am blazing my own unique trail through the grief process. My path has looked a little bit like this:

   * Suck it up buttercup days. I rock, I'm cool, I got this.
   * Sleep all day...I'm a terrible mom....hours of cartoons.
   * I will make Piper's life mean something! "Let's sell Tshirts!!!!"
   * I'm uplifted by love and support, always.
   * I miss the scary place. I miss the hospital. I miss those people.
   * I'm awesome! "Let's create a non-profit!" "Let's meet Paul Rudd!"
   * I can look through pictures...I still can't watch videos. This sucks.
   * Xanax and wine?...Don't mind if I do! Cheers!
   * I share Piper's story multiple times a day. I am meant to be her storyteller.
   * I love doing family things we didn't get to do last year. Am I happy or guilty?
   (REPEAT. REPEAT. REPEAT.)

Grief is no joke. Most days I am happy and sarcastic and silly, and I have made it a point to TRY to not feel guilty about that. Others, though, I am stopped dead in my tracks by missing Pipes. Little things will sneak up on me, like the smell of Noodle & Boo lotion, a picture a nurse texts me, or seeing a specific blanket. The sneaky things stab my heart a little; but I wouldn't have it any other way.

The latest little sneak up of emotion happened when my brother, aka "Uncle Whiskey," made it home from Iraq. I had been in a text loop with my mom all day, being updated on his ETA. His homecoming. I breezed through the day, happy for mom & dad to be able to see him, excited for his fiance to get him back home! Excitement - the emotion of the day. Easy.


It was the text "His plane just landed!" that caused a stir of emotions I didn't see coming. My excitement for my brother being home, sneakily morphed into a dumping of grief emotions. I realized, all day, that I was so happy for our family to all be on American soil again...that everyone was home and accounted for. That night, I discovered that my heart didn't feel the same way. Someone will always be missing. And it will always hurt.

I sobbed the night Drew came home. I wished I could be there to welcome him. I grieved at remembering all we went through during his deployment. All he missed, the good and the bad, came roaring back. I had grieved for Piper with our family; but I hadn't gotten to grieve Piper with my brother...and my body felt that on a primal level. So. darn. weird.

For those who don't know: Drew had been on a night watch when he got the news that Piper was cue-ing her exit from this earth. He was allowed to stop, call me, and was the last family member I spoke with just minutes before Piper passed. I was heartbroken for him to be so far away. He was heartbroken for me to be to saying goodbye to my baby. Two hearts, a world away from each other, both shattered by her tiny sweet soul.

With the holiday season upon us, I am reminded of the way I felt when Drew came home. With family living their lives miles apart, we rejoice in the fact that we get to spend these holidays together, but no, we are NOT all here and accounted for. There's a teeny tiny person that will always be missing.

Piper has scarred by heart.
We will always notice that she is the little heart tug we feel when celebrating as a family, and I choose to be thankful for that empty feeling in my stomach. She made her mark on all of us, we miss her, and there will always be a void.

For those who have lost a child, or a loved one recently....I see you. I acknowledge their absence. I know they are missing from your celebration.

It hurts like hell; but I love that we've loved so much.

Last year, I smiled through Thanksgiving lunch, then headed to the hospital to see Pipes. We were all "here," just not all at home.

This year, I will be still, look around the table, and be thankful to celebrate with family. I will be thankful that, although not what we expected, this year, Piper Grace is home.