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The Original Quiet Book, Part Three

Almost finished with J’s original quiet book, I promise!  Just this post and then one more.  You can check out parts one and two for more ideas!

Super easy one:  bead counting.quiet-book-counting-pageI got the idea from here.  I have a huge thing of beads so this was a great way to use them up.  I also added her name since I have a bunch of letter beads as well.  I don’t think she ever really played with it, but I can’t remember for sure.  Either way she’s been past that one for quite awhile now.  It’ll go into C’s book for sure.

Money page next.  Another one of my favorites!! quiet-book-money-page-3 quiet-book-money-page-2 quiet-book-money-page-1Once again it’s easy to tell that I used this blog for my inspiration, haha.  I really didn’t have any creativity when making this first book!  Although I did add something completely different that I didn’t see anywhere else:  the money sorting pockets at the bottom.  The downside to those, however, is that the money doesn’t actually stay in there.  Yet another time when I should’ve used velcro or snaps or something.  Fortunately it can be stored in the pig instead.  I also should have reinforced the slot where the money goes in.  Like by making it an actual buttonhole!

This is another one that J never really played with and once again I’m not sure why.  I think that I’ll just move it over into a new quiet book for her though.  She’ll start understanding money a lot more in the next couple of years and this would be a great learning tool!  I just need to see if I can hot glue some velcro to the money pockets.

This one makes me shudder every time I look at it.  Great idea in theory but the end result just didn’t turn out well.  A Walk the Dog page.

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quiet-book-original-dog-page-1I used this post for the idea but made my dog a bit differently, opting for his whole body instead of just his head.  I picked up the leash and collar from the dollar store.  I sewed the collar down so it could still open and close but couldn’t be taken off the whole way.  I trimmed the leash waaaaay down, made a loop for the handle and added velcro to attach it to the page.

This is another one that I don’t think J ever used.  It’s also going in the garbage just because I can’t stand the way it turned out.  I made one for Nolan’s quiet book, modeled to look like their dog Stetson.  I think it turned out much better and would make something similar to go into C’s book.  You can read all about how I made that page here.

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Next up:  Goodnight House!  Another one that I really like.  quiet-book-page-goodnight-house-2 quiet-book-page-goodnight-house-1Finally, a completely original idea!  I thought it would be really cute to have a page where she could put everyone in the family “to bed”.  I printed off our heads and attached them to cardstock bodies.  I printed off something similar to our pjs and pasted them on top.  Then I laminated the whole thing.  This is before I got my super cool laminator and was just using those sheets you can buy and just stick together yourself.  Hence why they look a bit funny.  I then glued them onto popsicle sticks.

I cut out 6 rectangles in different fabrics for our beds, folded the raw edges in, sewed the top down and then attached them to the house.  For the house I sewed on a white fabric square and red fabric triangle (obviously my measuring skills were a bit off since the roof is smaller than the house LOL!).  I added a moon and done!  Unfortunately the popsicle sticks never stayed in very well.  The pockets need to be deeper and wider (in order to fit our fat heads).  Either that or they need to be stored in a separate pocket somewhere.  I could probably add a zipper to one of the sides of the house for storage.  I don’t actually have to redo this page yet (since we’ll have three kids but only two dogs so the number of beds is good.  One of us will just have to sleep in the dog print blanket 😉 ), but I do need to update/fix the people.  Poor C doesn’t have a head since he wasn’t even born when I made this page, haha!

Okay, check out Part Four next week for the final installment!

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Regression.

I’m back to thinking about Zoe constantly.  For awhile I was doing pretty well.  Right before Florida I felt like I was in a groove.  My whole life wasn’t revolving around the thought “What should I be doing right now?”.  It was no longer my first thought when I woke up or my last thought before going to bed.  My new normal was starting to become just normal.

But ever since I got back I feel myself going more and more backwards.  The days are getting more difficult, not easier.  I’m obsessing over the “What if?” again.  I’m crying off and on all day.  I’m having difficulties sleeping, especially falling asleep.  And each day I’m feeling a little bit worse, thinking a little bit more.

I think there are a few reasons for my regression.  First, Zoe would have been two months old last week, which also means the two month anniversary of her death is almost here.  Two months…she would now be out of that infant/alien/zombie phase and starting to be more alert.  She’d be turning into a baby now.  We would be seeing her first intentional smile soon, if we hadn’t already.  She’d be doing more than just sleeping, eating and crying (but not much more).  She’d be learning how to hold up her head all on her own.  She’d start making noises other than just cries.  She’d start to get a little bit of a personality.  Which (and I feel like I’m beating a dead horse here) we’ll never see.

Second, I’m starting to prepare for the PCS, which means getting rid of shit.  Although I thankfully already went through J’s and C’s old stuff, weeding out everything I don’t want anymore, now I need to do something with the piles of clothes and toys.  Zoe never would have worn the clothing in these piles because the intention was always to get rid of it, but that doesn’t stop each and every teeny tiny baby girl outfit from tugging at my heartstrings as I decide if it’s doomed to the garbage, off to Goodwill or still in nice enough condition to sell.

Third, I just finished rereading Good in Bed by Jennifer Weiner.  I started it at the beach and finally got around to finishing it yesterday.  I don’t know how, but I completely forgot that she has a baby who is born prematurely and spends the first few weeks in the NICU.  I’ve read that book at least 10 times before, I know how it ends.  And even though she’s pregnant for the majority of it, never once did the thought cross my mind that it was going to end with her having a baby.  After I finished it all I could think was how unfair it is that she got to come home with a baby and I didn’t.  Jealous of a fictional character now, terrific.

And then yesterday I plugged my camera into my computer to transfer the pictures from C’s birthday.  I don’t know how, but two pictures of Zoe popped up.  I’ve dumped my camera at least once since her death but for some reason those pictures stayed on there, not emerging until yesterday.  The first one was one that Jeff took of Zoe and I the morning she was born.  He took it when the nurse brought her over to me about ten minutes after her birth, the first time we got to even see her.  Right before I gave her one quick kiss before they whisked her off to the NICU.  Before we knew anything was seriously wrong.  When we had no idea that was our only chance to see our precious baby girl without a bunch of tubes and wires.  Our only chance to hold her–although we weren’t given that option.   Never again will I let anyone take away my baby without at least getting a chance to hold him or her.  Never.

But honestly I think the main reason why I’m going backwards (besides just the obvious “grief goes in waves” answer) is because I don’t know if I ever grieved “properly”.  Yeah yeah yeah, I know that everyone deals with grief differently.  But I’m afraid that I never fully allowed myself to mourn.  To feel the pain completely.  I think I’m avoiding it.  Pushing it to the back burner, convincing myself that I’m just fine.  That the situation isn’t right, it isn’t okay, but it is what it is and life goes on.  I realized the other day that although I’ve experienced the denial, bargaining and depression phases of grief, I’ve never felt anger.  Unfairness, sure.  Jealously, absolutely.  But nothing even remotely near anger.  Not at Zoe for being unable to pull through.  Not at the doctors, who I know without a doubt did absolutely everything they possibly could.  Not the irrational anger at friends/family/strangers.  Not even at God because she was born defective.  Not at Jeff and I for deciding to give up hope and stop wishing for a miracle by removing all medical intervention.  Not at myself because I know there isn’t anything I did wrong.

But maybe that’s what I’m waiting for.  The autopsy results.  The results that I’m sure are going to come back that she was born with some rare genetic disorder that caused her capillaries, veins and heart to work against one another.  Maybe once I hear a medical professional tell me without a doubt that my baby was born broken and there wasn’t a single thing anyone in the world could have done to fix her, maybe then I’ll break once and for all.  Or maybe those results will come back and say that she developed improperly in the womb and they don’t know why and I’ll start to blame myself and the anger will kick in once and for all.  Or maybe they’ll say, well it turns out her condition was reversible and if we would’ve figured out what it was in time she could’ve healed.  And then I can rage at the doctors who didn’t catch it in time, who didn’t fix her like they should have.  At Jeff and myself for not giving it more time.

According to the medical examiners office, the results take 2-3 months for infants.  Which means we should have the final answer anytime between right now and four more weeks.  Just please, let there be a definitive answer.  And let it be a freak occurrence, not something Jeff or I passed on to her.  Something that we could pass on to another child.

Until then I’ll be in limbo.  Not knowing how the next day, next hour, next minute will make me feel.

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The Original Quiet Book, Part Two

Don’t judge me on the quality of these pages.  I made this book for J about 3 years ago and although my quiet book sewing skills may not be extraordinary and amazing now, they’re definitely a lot better than when I started out.  I love the idea behind most of these pages…just not the application, haha.  You can check out some of the other pages in Part One.

The Seasons page.  This one is actually one of my favorites.  J never really got into it, although I don’t know if it’s just because she was too young or there were too many pieces or what.  But I absolutely love this page.  quiet-book-seasons-page-3 quiet-book-seasons-page-4quiet-book-seasons-page-5quiet-book-seasons-page-2 quiet-book-seasons-page-1This post and this post were my main inspirations for this page.  I made the grass into a pocket but didn’t put anything across it to keep the stuff in, so I ended up shoving it all into the pocket on the back cover, which has velcro on it.  Fortunately I managed not to lose any pieces!  (The “spring” and “summer” labels were just never finished in general, haha).j-quiet-book-cover-2Remember in Nolan’s ladybug quiet book page I said I had a bunch of snaps leftover from a previous project?  The project that made me cry several times because I kept on hand sewing the snaps on incorrectly?  Well this is the one.  I used 4 different sizes of snaps.  For the first size I made a snow cloud, a rain cloud and a regular cloud.  The second size were a sun and a moon.  The third size were the things that went onto the tree:  spring flowers, summer leaves, fall leaves and snow.  And the last size was the name of the season.  That way she couldn’t snap the leaves in the sky or anything like that.  Maybe that’s part of what made it so confusing for her?  Although I really do think she never played with it just because there were so many pieces it made it hard to do in the car.  And she just didn’t understand/care enough about the idea behind it.  Either way I’m keeping this one for a future book just because of all of the effort that went into it!

The next one never ever got played with.  It’s going straight into the trash.  It’s a combined hair and face page.quiet-book-make-a-face-pageI was going for something like this.  I don’t know what happened, but mine just didn’t turn out very nicely.  I don’t know if it’s because the head’s too small or the hair too long or if the face pieces I made were just creepy looking.  Regardless, J never played with this page, either with the hair or the Make a Face pieces.  I think it’s hilarious that even though she never played with it, almost all of the pieces are missing.  How did that even happen?? Definitely the garbage for this one!

Dress-up closet.quiet-book-getting-dressed-page-2 quiet-book-getting-dressed-page-4quiet-book-getting-dressed-page-1quiet-book-getting-dressed-page-3It’s easy to tell that I used this blog and this blog for inspiration here!  I wanted to put two people on there instead of just one, so I used Serving Pink Lemonade’s template for the size instead.  I also used this blog to make a few princess dresses.

I remember when I was making this page that I cut out two tan people, but when I went to sew them on I could only find one.  By that point I was out of skin tone felt, so I cut one out of dark brown instead.  And wouldn’t you know it, as soon as I sewed both of them down I found the missing person.  So I just shoved it in the closet with the rest of the clothes so she had a third person to dress.  Looking at the picture I can tell that some of the clothing is missing.  There used to be a full firefighter outfit (she was obsessed with firefighters for the longest time), along with a couple of princess dresses and some shoes.

That’s another one that I’ll just get rid of.  She has another dress-up page in the ABC quiet book that’s just one big person and she plays with that one a lot more.  Of course that’s probably because it’s filed under the letter Q for Queen, so it’s only princess dresses and witch outfits, haha.  But the fabric I used on the closet wasn’t a good one and it’s fraying like crazy so you can only unzip it about 3/4 of the way now.  Now she did play with this one quite a bit, but I don’t see C being too into it in the future.  He’s more of a truck and train guy.

Next up:  laundry day!  This is another one of my favorite pages.  Even if there are only 3 socks left, and none of them match hahahaha!quiet-book-laundry-page-3 quiet-book-laundry-page-2I had two websites listed for inspiration, but only one of the links still works, this one.  This is the one that I followed the directions to make the washer, but not the clothesline.  I really liked the idea I saw somewhere else of making a clothesline with mini clothespins for the socks to hang up on, so that’s what I did.  J played with this one a decent amount.  And fortunately it’s one that I don’t really have to do anything to in order to keep it…minus cutting out some more socks haha!

Another easy page:  match the colors.quiet-book-match-the-colors-balloon-page-original quiet-book-match-the-colors-balloon-page-originalHere’s my inspiration post.  This is another one that I had two websites listed, but only one link currently works.  I liked the idea of doing balloons and shapes, so I decided to combine them.  This page ended up being a bit confusing for J because some of the ribbons didn’t quite match up with the felt colors.  Like the best I could do for light brown was that blue ribbon with a dark brown stripe (in the bottom photo it’s the one with the red heart on it).  I think it  confused her since some of the shades were different.  Hmmm, maybe my child isn’t the smartest on the block… Just kidding!

I made a similar page for Nolan and I think that one turned out much better.  quiet-book-match-the-colors-balloon-page-finished-2That’s it for now.  Check out Part Three next week!

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It was the best of times, the worst of times.

I had the best but worst time during my 5 days in Florida.  It was absolutely amazing to see my friends again.  I only get to see Noelle once a year (although now it’ll be twice since I’m going to up my annual vacation to two times a year…Jeff’s thrilled, haha) and I haven’t gotten to actually hang out with one of my other friends who was there in a long time.  It was fantastic to be with them again, making new memories, laughing nonstop and getting caught up on everything that has happened in the last year.  Even though we don’t get to see each other very often it feels like it was just yesterday since we all hung out together.  There’s no awkwardness, no hesitation, no searching for things to talk about.  It’s easy.  It’s true friendship at its best.

But I was unprepared for the downtime.  The constant thinking.  The not being able to get out of my head.  I never realized just how much my brain never stops running at home–what are we having for dinner?  When do I need to start getting it ready?  Oh crap, I forgot to get salt from the grocery store.  When’s the best time to go to the gym?  Can I fit a walk in for Roman this morning?  Does J need leggings or panty hose under her dress?  Shit, it’s 8:03, we need to leave for the bus stop.  C needs a diaper change.  I need to clean the bathrooms.  Dammit, I didn’t pull the meat out of the freezer.  Whoops, I forgot to make Roman’s food.  Shit, it’s 400, we need to get J from the bus.  Oh my God could doing homework with her be any more torturous?  How do people homeschool?  Is it bath time yet?  When’s Jeff getting home?  And the moments when my brain isn’t running a mile a minute then I’m working on a craft or zoned out in front of the TV late at night (and by “late at night” I mean 830).  But there was nothing to think about on vacation.  No big to-dos, no stressors, no nothing…which is normally exactly what I need.  Not this time.

I knew from the moment I stepped on the airplane that it wasn’t such a good idea. I missed my kids already. And no offense to my family, but that never happens. It might sound awful, but I don’t miss my kids the four days that I’m gone. I love them with all my heart, but I always need that time away. I revel in it. Refuel. But that’s not the case anymore. I don’t feel overprotective of them like I read happens to a lot of moms after the death of a child, but it turns out that I don’t want to be away from them. I don’t want to miss a single thing. And a trip without them was the worst possible idea.

I don’t want to make it sound like I had an awful time–the complete opposite of that. Those times when we were all together, talking and laughing, catching up, making memories, were the best times ever. It was just those down times.  Sitting in my lounge chair by the pool trying to read I just felt guilty.  Guilty for willingly being away from my kids when I would never get a chance to spend any more time with my third baby.  Guilty for wanting to stop thinking about that and just read.  Guilty for sitting by the pool in the Florida sun, trying to be carefree.  Guilty for being on a vacation, no matter how much I earned this one.  Although honestly I don’t think guilty is the right word. I don’t know what exactly I was feeling…it just didn’t feel right. Or good.  So instead of spending the entire day reading like we normally do, Amanda and I sat on the edge of the pool, our feet dangling in the water to keep cool (while it was snowing back home, hahaha), talking and people watching.  And as long as we were talking, I was okay.  Fortunately there are never many lulls in the conversation when we’re together.

The last day was the worst.  We went to the beach and I forgot my book.  Although honestly I don’t know how much of a difference it would have made if I had had it.  From the moment I woke up I didn’t feel right and that feeling stuck with me all day–through my workout, through all of our conversations.  The feelings had returned full force and were extremely hard to shake. Once again I can’t even express what I was feeling.  It definitely wasn’t guilt.  It was more than just sadness.  I was in my head and I wanted–needed–to get out of it.  And you know, that probably wasn’t the healthiest thing to do.  I let myself dwell on everything for as long as possible that morning, but it probably still wasn’t enough.  I probably should’ve let myself cry.  I was surrounded by my closest friends; I should’ve talked to them about it.  But I just couldn’t.  That night after we got back and were all laying in bed it took me 20 minutes to open my mouth and ask Noelle, the one who had lost both of her parents recently, if she has a hard time talking about her feelings.  Twenty minutes to work up the courage to say something to someone who is not only one of my best friends, but who is also going through something very similar.  I just can’t talk about it.  It seems pointless.  No one can say or do anything to make it better.  I know that and they know that so I feel like that makes them feel helpless and I don’t want to do that to them.  Stupid, I know…but that knowledge still doesn’t help me talk about it.  No one knows how I’m feeling (even though the rational part of me knows that’s not true. Sure, no one knows exactly how I’m feeling, but grief is grief.  Which was evidenced by the fact that Noelle knew exactly what I was taking about before I even finished saying it and felt the exactly same way).  It was such a huge relief to hear Noelle feels the same way about it that I do. But at the end of the day, it doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t make me more comfortable talking about my feelings. It doesn’t make me feel better about the situation. It doesn’t make it any easier.

I think another reason it was so hard is because I was doing so well the previous weeks.  I was able to think about Zoe without crying.  I wasn’t having bad days, just bad moments.  And even the bad moments were fewer and farther (further?) between.  Although I knew that I wasn’t healed, I really thought I was starting to get over it.  You’d think I would have learned my lesson after the last time I felt that way and then was completely bowled over by something simple.  Even though I know that grief comes in waves and that I’ll never be completely safe from the depression, I’m still shocked every time it catches me off guard.

I also confirmed a suspicion on that trip:  I need to stay away from alcohol.  I’ve never been a big drinker to begin with–I’m more of a binge drinker, haha.  I only drink with my friends and only with the purpose of getting completely hammered.  If we’re not all getting wasted together then I just stick to water while everyone else enjoys their beer and wine.  I don’t like the taste of it and let’s face it–if i’m going to have the extra calories I’d rather eat a piece of cake, haha.  Honestly I can’t remember the last time that I was drunk…sometime before I was pregnant with C.  I had a feeling that drinking would only make all of my feelings worse, and I was right.  One of the nights when we all went out to dinner I ordered a strawberry margarita.  By the time the glass was empty I just wanted to crawl under the table and cry.  And it had actually been a really good day up until that point; unsurprisingly the alcohol pulled my depression right up to the surface although it was buried way down deep.  At least now I know for sure.

I love my girls.  I’m thrilled that we crashed Christy’s trip at the last minute and I don’t regret going.  When we’re all together, gossiping, laughing and making fun of Amanda, I don’t want to be anywhere else or with anyone else in the world.  It was just hard.  Really really hard.  Unexpectedly hard.  I think it was too soon.  Although still difficult as hell, I don’t think it would’ve been as hard a few months down the road.  After I’ve healed just a little bit more.  But it was another milestone to add to the list, another box to check.  First vacation post-Zoe without the family:  check.  Which means that the next time it rolls around it’s going to be just a little bit easier.

Breathe.

I’m sitting in the airport at my gate waiting for my plane to finally board (an hour and a half later than originally scheduled, what a surprise), having a minor panic attack. My heart is racing, my hands are shaking and my breath is coming out staggered. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be going to Florida. There shouldn’t be an annual trip to Florida to visit Noelle this year. I should have a seven week old. I should be sleep deprived. The last thing I should be doing is boarding a plane. And I shouldn’t be going on a child-free vacation. It shouldn’t be possible.

This all hit like a brick. I was just sitting in my seat watching episodes of Nashville and Nurse Jackie thanks to Richmond’s free wifi. Excited to see my best friends. To be away from the kids. To get a much needed vacation, to hit the beach and the pool, to have some downtime. To find a positive in Zoe’s not being here. But I don’t want this. I want to be home, sitting on the couch, feeding Zoe, yelling at C and J to go find something to do. To figure out how I’m getting dinner ready and cleaning the house. I shouldn’t be here.

I know that all of these feelings are going to disappear the moment I see my girls. Once again I’ve been caught off guard.

Sorry if there are errors. No time to proofread…we’re boarding. I just may have to get myself a $10 drink once on board.

Sanity

Today I did something I’ve been avoiding for the last 5 weeks:  organized and uploaded the photos I took in the weeks before I had Zoe through now.  Not that there were many–I’ve taken zero photos of the kids between Zoe’s passing and now (minus Easter).  It just feels wrong to show what’s happening in J’s and C’s lives when Zoe isn’t here to have her life documented.  And I hate looking at the “before” pictures from the last few weeks.  Before everything went to shit.  Back when we were happy and excited and talking about all of the ways our lives were going to change once we had a third kid.  When we went to the Great Wolf Lodge for a weekend as a last hurrah as a family of four (there’s $200 we could’ve saved).  I especially hate looking at photos of me when I was pregnant.  I was searching for a picture on my computer from our trip to Jamaica back in October and was completely caught off guard by my big pregnant belly.  My heart dropped all the way down to my heels and I felt nauseous.  How could I have forgotten that I was pregnant while we were there?  How is it I don’t have anything to show for those 9 months?  The memory of that trip will always be tainted.  How will I be able to scrapbook those memories?  And my sister’s bachelorette/bridal shower?  Her wedding?  This past Christmas?  An entire nine months of memories that I don’t want to acknowledge because I won’t be able to look at a picture of myself from those times and not miss Zoe.  Not that I don’t miss her constantly now, but I’m thinking about a year, two years, ten years down the road when she’s not on my mind constantly.  I don’t want to look at those photos and be caught off guard like I was the other day.  I hate that those nine months of my life and everything we saw and did during that time will always be associated with sad thoughts.

I’ve been thinking about grief a lot lately.  One of my best friends lost her mother three years ago and her dad last year.  Another friend lost her husband last year.  I lost my mother when I was 16.  A thought struck me the other day that has been on my mind constantly since then–that I’m lucky.  I feel like my situation is easier to “get over”.  Especially because Zoe was so young.  We never even brought her home.  So I “just” have to deal with how unfair and wrong it all is that such a small innocent being was taken before she got a chance to live.  And the unanswered questions about her life and what she would’ve been like.  It’s a lot different than trying to survive after losing a spouse or parents.  Someone that you saw and/or talked to every single day, shared every single thing with.  That you would tell the insignificant details of your day.  Go to bed with, call when something happened, share all of your moments with, big or small.  Someone who is so ingrained in your life that you have to relearn how to do everything without them.  Instead of thinking and deal with what “should have been” after the loss of an infant, it’s the “always has been” after the loss of a spouse or best friend or parent.

Or if we had brought her home and she passed away from SIDS or some other awful disease.  If we would’ve had a chance to get used to her presence in the house, to expect to hear her cries and experience sleepless nights and have all of the baby paraphernalia out (which the amount seems to grow less and less with each child.  It’s amazing what is actually a necessity with a baby, haha!).  I would have to get rid of all of the outfits that she wore because I wouldn’t be able to see a future child wearing them.  Just like the shirts Jeff and I were wearing on the day she passed away immediately went into the Goodwill pile after we got home.  For her to be in our lives in a normal baby way, not just only being in the NICU.  That would make everything all the more difficult to come to terms with.

Or, even worse, losing a child.  Not an infant, but a kid C or J’s age.  Or older or younger.  I honestly don’t know if I would be able to get through it if something happened to either one of them tomorrow.  They are both so entrenched in my life, a part of every single thing I do, that their death would be something that I would never truly be able to get over.  It would take me years to function normally.  I can’t even breathe thinking about something like that happening.  I can’t think about something like that happening.  Especially now.

My heart goes out to all of the families that have experienced something similar to what we have.  Especially those who had to go through this not just once but twice or, God forbid, even more times.  And especially to those who lost a child.  That has always been unthinkable to me, but even more so now.  Those are the courageous people.  They’re the ones who deserve our thoughts and prayers and help.  Because there is nothing worse than the death of a child.  Losing J or C is unfathomable.

I hope I’m explaining myself right.  I am not saying in anyway that I’m glad that Zoe died.  Or that I’m happy it was her and not Jordan or Carter or Jeff.  Or that it’s good that we never got the chance to bring her home or watch her grow before this happened to her.  Because I would trade it all for her to have had a week, a month, a year, a decade with us before being taken away.  For her to at least have had a chance at life.  To see what kind of personality she would have, what she would look like.  To make memories with her.  I’m just saying that although the unfairness and wrongness of her death is so much worse than someone who is older, I think I’m able to process the grief and “get over it” (Ha!  As if there’s such a thing.) “easier” than if it was someone I saw and talked to every single day, someone who was already a huge part of my daily life.  I hate that we never got a chance to bring her home, to see her grow, to get to know her…but at the same time it’s a blessing in disguise for my sanity.

But I would trade that sanity for more time with her.  In a heartbeat.