Since the terror in Boston and the explosion of the fertilizer plant I've heard said over and over a quote by Mr. Rogers about looking for the "helpers" whenever tragedy strikes. The tragedy of losing a full-term baby is no different in its abrupt world-shaking effects. It tests your faith, stamina and emotional stability. However, even in the darkest hours of grief, the world still moves on. But in the moving of the world, people move. They move to help, they move to hug, they move to hold.
The morning she stopped moving, my sister dropped me off at the hospital, and felt tremendous waves of guilt for having left me at the hospital because she had thought I was by myself. And then, in the weeks and months that followed, and even still, she always checked to see if I was okay. Always asked what I was doing or if I needed company. She loved Gabbie before she knew her and worried about her before she knew she should worry. I know you worried, C, and I thank you for loving me, and caring, and for taking Gracie until more help would come.
Then we heard the news, and the family rushed to be with us. My mom, a raging mother bear when she entered the room, tried to have someone do something, anything, though it was already too late. Then it was about me, and D, and Gabbie. I thank you Mom, for staying, and holding her. I thank you for telling her you loved her, and that you love her still, always. I thank you for the fight you put up to have someone rescue me, rescue her. If love could have saved her, she'd be here still.
My in-laws came, and took Gracie and cared for her when we could not. And they cried for her, and cry still. They find me butterflies, and wish her Merry Christmas, or give an angel bear for Easter. They acknowledge that she's here in little ways I love. I love you both.
My brother came, to the hospital, though he isn't good at stuff like that. He came, and hugged, and left, and that was enough. He's suggested ways of healing, of looking for the light in things, his way of helping me to heal in the only way he knew. I love you for that B.
My Father came from Ohio, to hug me to hold me and tell me it'll be okay. My stepmom, hugged me and told me she loved me. A week later they sent a tear drop in heaven necklace to remind me that there are no tears in heaven.
My Stepdad, always my cheerleader, looked me in the face at the funeral and told me I could do this. He hung an angel on my neck and told me she will always be with me. So far, he hasn't steered me wrong.
When she was delivered, my best friend came running the instant that I called. And though she was newly pregnant she held my fully developed sleeping baby to whisper how she loves her and wishes she could stay. She keeps Gabbie's tree safe in her garden and tends it lovingly because she knows its meaning, like she'd care for Gabbie if she could. I can't possibly explain my gratitude to this woman who was given to me as a friend so long ago. Cyn, I am so thankful for you (and for your hubby who helps in so many ways too).
My sister R is my shoulder to cry on. In the weeks following she would listen to me cry. She would give advice and find me butterflies. In the weeks when school started and I cried on my way to work each morning or sometimes on my way home, she would hug me when I walked in the door because she always knew. She always knows. I love you, R, for knowing, always, and for not having answers but trying anyway.
Then there was D's brother, S. He told me he was proud of me for just keeping going... it was just a moment in the driveway. But it means so much. His wife, my sister-in-law, went for a couple walks with me when we went camping and discussed Gabbie, and trying again later. The conversation was simple, but the gist is this: "I don't know how you do it, or even if I could." W... I do not feel as strong as you make it sound I am, but I love you for the thought.
My MECHS family, no words can possibly explain the amount of love and gratitude I have for the outpouring of support that you all rallied with. When I started back, you were my saviors. You talked me down, and back, grounded me, and raised me up. I am indeed blessed to be working with such sweet people.
My friends everywhere, your texts of concern, of thoughts and prayers, the random butterflies, the comments and support. For as much as the loss hurts, each and every one of you have made me feel stronger than you possibly could know. The random acts of kindness, the love from each of you, brings light to my sometimes very dark days.
To each of you, any who I may have missed, each time you reach out, to hug, to say you care or that you are thinking of me, you do lighten my heart. I am sorry if I have been aloof this last year. I am sorry if I am changed. Please know, that no matter what, I appreciate you, love you, and am thankful to have you in my life. You are my helpers, my angels on Earth in my time of tragedy.
And D... as we come to this year's first angelversary, know I love you from the bottom of heart, through my soul, with my entire spirit. I would walk through darkness for the rest of my life it meant having you with me. Gabbie may be our angel, but you are my rock. I hope that I am as good to you as you are to me.
Gabbie.... My angel in Heaven. I don't know if Heaven is all around us, or somewhere far away. I miss you every second I take breath and every waking moment. I miss you in my sleep too. I love you with all the parts of my heart that are now empty because when you left a part of me left too. That emptiness holds you here, it must because that emptiness is so very heavy, but your butterflies let you soar. Soar sweet baby, my love will tether you to me so you can always find your way back home. For you, I can carry the sadness forever.
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