A post from long ago...

In working on my story, I have been pausing in my writing to flip through my Facebook pages, notes, and posts, as well as old blog posts and other things that I have written down. These things are feeding my memory, little details I thought were forgotten are now resurfacing and helping me write my story in a new and different way. I can do this any way I please. It is MY story. And then I ran across this little jewel of a blog post from March 2010, less than 6 months after losing my sweet and precious daughter. And then I realized that it is still true. I feel the same way about my writing in a way... and so, here is my post from March 7, 2010, entitled "What Scares Me Most"... (commentary to follow)

That phrase is a little misleading, I suppose. One thing that I have felt strongly since losing Kylie is my way with the written word has improved. It is easy for me to type freely, letting the words flow from my mind through my fingers to the keyboard. Sure, there are flaws. What doesn't have flaws? But I think what has improved my writing is the reality behind it, the feeling, the raw emotions. The words I speak, sadly, are heartwrenching yet true. 

What scares me most... like I said, misleading. What scares me most, well, has already happened. Now, it is the life I live in response to what happened. Really, every day scares me, just to end with me being scared of the next... and so on. 

I am afraid of the day when it is no longer okay to use Kylie's picture as my profile picture on facebook. I know, how ridiculous that sounds. But it's true- life continues on. It's not like I will have new pictures of Kylie to share all the time, like other mommies. It's not like you will see a change in her. Forever, the images I have of her will sadly, painfully stay the same. There will be no aging, there will be no changing. 

Change. Terrifying to think of. As I sit here, contemplating on where this blog is going, terror has shocked me more than once since the pang hit me to write tonight. When the feeling hits, you must succomb. And I must say, I am unsure why I feel the need to write here instead of on my March of Dimes blog. I haven't even looked at it in a week. I guess it's no matter. In the months before I went back to work, I lived on that blog. Hours per day, I would search, write, share. I would find peace and comfort in others who shared my misery, and I would find solace with those who did not know or understand, but felt for me and my loss. It was almost an obsession, and yet, as quickly as I became obsessed, I dropped it. There is no reason. I love my friends there. I guess... well, I have become occupied. I have the walk to take my time, and I have found more time for books and less time for the computer. 

Change. Terrifying to think of. Yet, I am not the same as I was before this happened. No one plans to bury a child. We plan a future--even though she wasn't born, I had envisioned her life--as a child, a teenager, a wife, a mother... and desperately hoped that I would be alive to see her become a strong, independent woman. I prayed to God that he would give her my desire to learn, my will to try hard at all that I do. I hoped she would get her daddy's strength, and his knack for making people laugh. I hoped that she would love deeply and strongly, and I hoped that she would have a heart of gold. I envisioned, more often than not, her walking down the aisle in a white wedding dress with Chris at her side, his hair gray, but still as strikingly handsome as ever, as our daughter, more beautiful than any bride I ahve ever seen, prepared to start her own life with someone made for her. This thought bothers me more than anything else. Sure, I wanted her to graduate from high school and college (Auburn of course- nothing but the best for my little girl). It made growing old seem worthwhile, full of purpose, and it was not scary to grow old thinking of her to fill our hearts and lives. Yet, those plans no longer get to unfold, though I still picture them often. It is hard for parents to bury a child. Not only do I mourn HER, the loss of her. I mourn her future, my future, OUR future. I mourn the life she didn't get to live, the life that I lost when i lost her. No, it's not selfish thinking. Don't misinterpret. Even now, Kylie comes first. 

I think I lost my passion for reading when she died because I never got to share that with her. I hoped that she would share that passion with me, and we could read our favorites together every day, over and over. I always pictured me reading her bedtime stories at night. I always, always, pictured it. The first book I read to her was "On the Night you were born." I read this to her on what would have been her two month birthday at her grave, sobbing the entire time. There is so much I wanted to do with her, say to her... teach her. Now, I won't get the opportunity.

It scares me to death that I have to live my life in a new "normal" without my daughter. I guess that's normal, but it feels so abnormal. Profound, I know.

**After reading this post, after reading my emotions, I do have to tell you that I agree with so much of what I wrote. It is unfair and hurtful to know that Kylie's pictures will never change. Kylie will never have new photos. There won't be any updates to her living life. It is also painful to see that I was in such a hard, raw, difficult place; I was struggling with my love for reading, writing, and so many other things, and I did use my grief to pull me away from things at different times. But the truth behind the blog post is that I have to live a "new normal." And it is true. Even now, I am trying to get a feel for the normal, and what my normal is. So this is good fuel for my writing tonight. I hope someone out there is reading this... but if not, it's okay. It means something to me. 

Recall and retreat

We joke sometimes in our support group(s) that we have different versions of our story. We have the short version, the long version, the one minute version, the television version, the news article version, the blog version, the personal version, the ministering version... well, you get the picture. We have a version of our story that fits pretty much any situation we would come across... except, where does an infant loss story REALLY fit? It doesn't. It shouldn't. It won't. It never will. It never did.

Sometimes, telling my story is natural. It just happens, and I find myself talking about Kylie casually, as if she were right beside me or holding my hand at that very moment. Then at other times, telling my story is as painful as if I were reliving it over and over, stuck in a nightmare that just won't ever stop. It hurts, it makes me sick to my stomach, and it drains me. It can be at any time, on any day, doing anything.

I find that when I get to certain parts of my story, as I recall the pain and recall the hurt, I begin to retreat in some way. Sometimes, it's into my writing. Sometimes, it's into music. Sometimes, it's to my bed to cry my eyes out. Sometimes, it's just within myself. Grief is so exhausting and draining, and even three years later is no exception. I find myself "recalling and retreating" a lot... even a smell can throw me into memory overdrive, or just a certain way Bryleigh looks at me, where I am hit with so much resemblance of her sister, or in Jaycee's innocent way of talking about Kylie and her life in Heaven... even such simple items cause me pause and my body goes into "fight or flight" syndrome. Because, ultimately, I will cry. I just will. The hurt isn't over, and quite frankly, I don't think it will ever be over. But, that's okay, too. When the hurt is over, my memories of her are over, and I never want that to happen.

So, sometimes, the pain of recalling the story causes me to retreat from my own writing, and I am going to have to find a place that I am comfortable with. Maybe it's in just writing a little bit here, a little bit there, but I am determined to get this written down and into some kind of format. I am working on compiling letters to Kylie, things that I have written for her throughout the past three years, to include in the book. I would love to have my book centered around those, after the initial story of course, and mixed in with commentary on dealing with my grief, other people, and living again. Even writing about a pregnancy after a loss is important, because I feel like I had to pave my own way in this whole process, and it shouldn't be so taboo that other parents have to go at it alone. I just won't let that happen anymore.

Recall and retreat. It happens. All the time, no matter the situation. We all do it. Now, if I could just figure out a way to "stop" the retreat... ;)

Why the title of the blog?

As I was going back through some old posts on Facebook, I found the copy of the poem I wrote for Kylie's funeral. I titled it "The Precious Gift," and my sweet sister read it at her funeral for me (I knew there was no way on this planet I could get through the first word, more or less the whole poem. I was a wreck.). I wrote this poem because this is how I deal with things. I write. For me, writing just hits me sometimes, and the urge is so strong that I HAVE to find a place to either type or write with pen and paper. Writing is a release of emotions in a way, and sometimes, it gets those words out much easier than trying to speak them. So, for now, my blog is "My Precious Gift." And this title has more than one meaning to it. Of course, ultimately, Kylie is my precious gift (as are my other children). However, in the past three years, so many other things have become gifts in the wake of our loss.

God has given us the opportunity to minister to other parents, to be a source of support and a source of comfort, something that we really did not have. He has given us the opportunity to work with the March of Dimes and raise money to help prevent other families from losing their precious babies. He led me to create the facebook page, Healing Hearts for Baby Loss of North Alabama, in the hopes that parents will have other parents to connect with in the journey of grief. I was baptized in February, the biggest blessing so far. So many gifts, that I can't even name them all.

So in reality, though losing Kylie is still the most painful, difficult thing in my life, it has also brought me many gifts. It doesn't change the fact that I hurt. It doesn't change the fact that I would give anything to have her here with us. It doesn't change that I wish she never left. But, it does make living each day a little more doable.

So, I am thankful for My Precious Gift. In more ways than one.

The Precious Gift 

By: Amber Keith 

Your presence was a precious gift 

Sent from up above 

A little miracle for us 

To always know and love 

We never thought we’d have you 

But we’re so happy we did 

It’s just a little hard right now 

To keep our feelings hid 

We had to let you go 

Back to your heavenly home 

How I’ll ever fill the void 

Only God above knows 

It seems so unfair 

For you to leave us so soon 

But I know you’re in God’s hands 

And you know that I love you. 

We will always know you 

As our first baby girl 

And I will always look forward to seeing you 

When its my time to leave the world. 

I know you’re smiling down on us 

And watching from above 

And I want you to know we miss you 

And are sending you lots of love 

Welcome to my journey!

Welcome to my journey as a writer! I hope that you all find something here that you find insightful, uplifting, or intriguing with each visit. I hope to blog about my newest undertaking of becoming a published author. My topic of writing is vastly different from a novelist, but I hope that it turns into something that other grieving parents can go to for comfort and validation. My hope is also that the book I do write will also be a great resource for family and friends of grieving parents, to help guide them in what is best to avoid, how to help handle situations, what to say and not to say, etc.. so, I hope that you are excited about this new endeavor, because I am so happy to finally bring this to fruition. <3 Thank you all for your support and willingness to stand behind me as I start on yet another project!