We are in Los Angeles now after a wonderful time spent in Pismo Beach from Bolinas. It was foggy most of the drive once we hit San Francisco all the way to Pismo. The drive turned from beach to floating in the clouds. It was magical. In Pismo the fog continued but lifted just in time for us to catch an incredible sunset from the pier.

Thursdays are usually when we have our appointments with our therapist. Our intentions were to create our own therapy session just the two of us as this is the first time in four weeks we haven’t had a meeting with her. Our DIY session was Carlos and I sitting on the foggy beach this morning, holding Sylvia, looking through pictures of her that we brought and crying. How can this be our life. Holding our daughter, in her urn, on a beach, while we look at the last and only pictures taken of her. She had Carlos’ toes. Why does she never get to feel sand with them? Or grass? Or run through our house with them? Why are we looking at pictures of our daughter’s toes instead of kissing them and tickling them? Why am I not covering them with socks and booties anticipating fall weather instead of sobbing because I never will? Why do I never get to have her pick out a nail polish for me to paint her toe nails?  Continue reading →

When I was 34 weeks pregnant Carlos and I adopted a huge, floppy, white shepard lab mix. At the time, it seemed like an okay idea, it allowed him time to get to know us and us to get to know him before Sylvia’s arrival. We fantasized about Sylvia having a dog that was hers, that would protect her and would be her companion. His name was ‘Lucky’ and we figured it was a name the shelter had given him. I couldn’t handle having a dog named ‘Lucky’…it was just too obnoxious of a name. We tried to change it but he was unresponsive to the new name. Great. The shelter told us he was two years old but as soon as we had him home and reviewed his adoption paperwork, we realized he was barely one. Awesome. Upon further review of the paper work we realized his name was Lucky since he had an initial puppy veterinarian visit at 10 weeks old. We couldn’t change his name now and, what do ya know, he responded to commands when we called him Lucky. Dear God. What have we done. I am pregnant and working nights full time while Carlos works days and we just adopted a 70 pound puppy named Lucky.  Continue reading →

I am completely blank for what to write. It’s my birthday today, I turned 30. I am numb. On the way back from breakfast with Carlos I tried to come up with some goals for myself for this year. I was empty. I couldn’t come up with a single thing that seemed important enough to say out loud. Last year this was the month I went off birth control. My entire 29th year of being alive was dedicate to bringing a baby into this world. I didn’t succeed with a live baby. It is wrong that I have had 30 years of life and she wasn’t even given a day. Today seems more like a punishment of a reminder that her life was cut so short. Her heart stopped beating and mine has to continue. Every candle I ever blow out, every shooting star I see, every wish I ever make, is for her.

Sylvia, my little dove, I carried you for every second of your life and will love you for every second of mine. I know you are with me today, as you are every day, but I wish you were in my arms instead of just my heart. Help mommy and daddy to be strong, little girl. We love you.

At some point the night before Sylvia was born, between sobs, Carlos looked at me and said that we were going to take a trip together, that we needed to get away, just us and the dog. I don’t know how he could have known that this was something we needed to do at that point, but he did. We’ve taken a lot of little trips since Sylvia’s death, but this trip is different. This is the trip. People who we have talked to who had a infant or child loss have told us they did the same thing, take a long, extended vacation you never had planned. It’s a curious common denominator for parents in this situation. I have been thinking about the meaning behind this trip, trying to figure out what it represents and also trying to get excited about it. Is it a release of energy? An escape? Are we running? Are we searching? Are we trying to find something bigger, something new? Does it represent anything other than the-trip-we-took-when-our-daughter-died? We don’t even know how to feel about the trip…because this isn’t what we were supposed to be doing. We will only be on this trip because Sylvia died. If she was here, it would not happen. Do I resent the trip for this? I am scared, I know that. I know that it will be painful. Every place we go, every new thing we see, we will be thinking about how we wished she were in our arms and we were showing her the world. We are taking a trip because she died, rather than having her here and taking her on the same vacation…that wouldn’t necessarily happen, because she would be alive. I don’t know if it can be anything other than the-trip-we-took-when-Sylvia-died. We leave next week.  Continue reading →

My mom and I went hiking yesterday to Snow Lake near Snoqualamie Pass. Sylvia was there in the last wildflowers of summer.

Sylvia was born in August and it is now September. Which means I could now say my daughter died last month. Fall is rolling in, my favorite season, but she was born more in the summer. So she died in a different season. My birthday is coming up, but she died when I was 29, not 30. Time is moving on even though I feel completely paralyzed, trying to hold on to the ‘nearness’ of her being here…last month, last season, last year. Time is different now for us. It moves painfully, shockingly slow. I have never seen a new mom post pictures with a caption of, ‘Wow my baby is 3 months old! This has been the longest 3 months of my life! Time has just drug by!’ It is usually the complete opposite with begs and pleads for time to slow down and their baby to stay a baby forever, to stop growing and to preserve moments. Time flies for them. I always get the idea that if you ask a mom about the concept of time in relation to their growing children, their answer would be relating it to a fast forward, but only in hind sight. One day they look at their toddler…and realize they have a toddler.  Continue reading →

My beautiful daughter,

You would be one month old today. Your daddy and I miss you every second, of every hour, of every day. We are consumed with thoughts of you and we talk about you all the time to each other, to your family and to our friends. You have changed us, entirely. Thank you for your bravery, your strength, your love and your life.  Continue reading →