Memories... Like Mom Made!

Memories... Like Mom Made!
Out of dark moments, flowers grow.

Monday, February 28, 2011

One Month Ago Today...

January 28, 2011...

One month ago today, my world stopped. The sun stopped shining, the earth stopped turning, and though in all actuality, it beats as well as ever, I am pretty sure my heart stopped, too.

I talk about Leila a lot, because I don't know what else to do. If talking about her makes others uncomfortable, then I am sorry. But she was my daughter, she was everything I could have ever wanted, and my time with her was so brief. I want to be able to remember every tiny little thing about her: from her teeny tiny little finger nails on her loooong skinny fingers, to her cute little nose, to her dark peach fuzz hair, to her skinny little legs and her adorable little feet.

I don't want to forget a thing.

It feels like just yesterday the doctors were starting to be more positive about Leila's fight. I remember joking with her doctor about how stubborn she would be as a teenager. I remember laughing and smiling and dreaming about her future. Can it really be true?

Has it really been one month since we said goodbye?

I am reliving those moments again and again right now. I remember walking down the hallway to her room. I remember the look on our favorite nurse, Donna's face. I remember looking at Leila's body. Knowing that something was wrong. Knowing what I didn't want to know.

That she was hurting.

Before Leila passed away I had received a link to a story about a premie baby girl. The story talked about the daughter's struggle and the parents' pain, then about how she grew into a happy and precocious little girl. One day when at a baseball game, the daughter asked her mom, "do you smell that?" The mom looked around and said "Yes, it smells like rain." The little girl said "No, mom! Do you smell that smell?" Again the mom said "Yes honey, I think we are going to get rained on soon." Finally the little girl says, "No Mommy. It smells like God, when you rest your head on His chest."

As soon as I read that story, when my Leila was still alive, I imagined that God was in her isolette with her. Holding her, breathing His healing breath on her. Comforting her. Any time her fight got rough, I told myself that God was holding her and taking away her pain. I told myself that she talked to God and He talked to her.

After she died, I found myself wondering if God was there with her. I wondered if maybe she told God she was ready to go.

If she chose.

I think I would feel better if I knew that she had told God she was ready, and that she didn't want to fight anymore.

I hate the idea that she just died. No sense to it, just death. It feels so final.

I want to believe that while she was resting her head on God's chest, she told Him she didn't want to fight anymore. That she wanted to go to Heaven and play with angels. That she loved her parents and her brother, but that even she understood that we didn't want her to suffer.

I think she gave us those last few minutes with her, to love on her and hold her for the first and last time, knowing that she was going to go home to God.

I pray with every fiber of my being that she is happy. That she will get some semblance of the childhood that was taken from her. That she will get to do all the things she never got to do down here: like run and play and laugh and cry and eat. And see.

I really hope she can see.

More than anything I wanted to see her eyes. I knew that they were still fused shut because she was so early. Because they weren't ready. I had prepared myself to raise a blind daughter. I didn't care: I would learn to read braille if I had to. I just wanted her to be healthy.

But now, now that she is in Heaven, I REALLY, really hope that she can see. I hope that she sees us and knows that we were her parents. I pray that she can see how much we loved her. And I hope that she can "see" the balloons we send up to her. I pray that she can feel the love her brother has for her. I wonder if he can see her and talk to her. Because sometimes, I swear he is talking to someone... He adores her so much.

I have so many thoughts bouncing around in my head.

So many things I can't put in to words...

So many things I have to do but don't know how to start.

For now I am going to snuggle on the couch with my sweet baby boy, and reflect on my baby girl's life.

<3 My sweet Leila. I love you so. I carry you with me in my heart everywhere I go. I pray for your peaceful rest. I love you, my sweet angel. <3


  1. I still think of Leila everyday. I still have my FB picture of her remembrance candle. She is a precious angel and I think it's great that you talk about her :) And I fully believe that she can see.. and that she's watching over you, Donovan and Landon.

  2. P.S. This is Bree.. lol.. I forgot to sign out of Buck's account first :P

  3. I know she can see! She can see and feel your love for her and all your gifts! She receives your gifts and enjoys them and plays and laughs!

  4. I have felt your pain and followed your journey. You are ready to fly.