"Write It Down"
Labels:
annabellejoy,
babysteps,
grief,
nurse,
pregnancyloss,
thankyou
·
Thursday, September 27, 2012
In our last bereavement group session we were assigned a piece of homework; to write a letter to either a caregiver, a family member or friend, or to our child about our experience losing a baby.
Try as I might, I do not yet have the courage (or the words) to write to Annabelle (that is what this blog is intended to help me find). Instead, I chose to try and capture some of the emotion both my husband and I feel for our nurse, Eveline, who guided us through the darkest night of our lives.
This is our thank-you to her:
I read a quote online recently that defined a nurse as “a
unique soul who will pass through your life for a minute and impact it for an
eternity. An empowered individual whom
you may meet for only a 12 hour period, but who will put you and yours above
theirs”. As we look back on the night
that led to Annabelle’s arrival and departure, we have come to realize that truer
words were never spoken.
When we first met you that night, I’ll admit: I didn’t want
to like you. I didn’t want to embrace your kind words, gentle spirit and caring
touch. Because, in my mind, to do so meant I had to acknowledge, and in some
way, accept why you were there. That you
were going to guide us through moments we did not want to experience, and help
us face a reality we did not want to exist.
We were afraid and alone and in uncharted territory. We
didn’t know what to expect; what to do, or how to cope. But you did. You’ve
been there before. You’ve seen parents like us before. And you knew exactly
what to do – and what to say. And while we never knew how painful a journey
this was going to be for us, we can’t even begin to understand what it is like
for you. As parents about to lose their
child, we were allowed the luxury of breaking down and crying; of getting angry
and saying bitter things; of wanting to curl up in a little ball and hide; but
you didn’t. You had a job to do. We watched as you fought back tears and forced
a smile to your lips so that you could care for us in our time of need. I’m not sure either of us will ever fully
appreciate how much strength and courage that takes. To constantly be the
quiet, calm voice of reason in the midst of chaos. To look into the eyes of
parents who are about to lose their baby and tell them it will be okay.
That night, in the late dark hours, when my pain had hit a
threshold I could no longer bear, you were there. You held my hand. You
advocated for me and stayed with me until I could find sleep. You gave Aaron the comfort and peace to know
that he could leave for a while and go give our eldest daughter a sense of
normal on the most unnatural of days.
You gave us kindness and respect that neither one of us expected, and we
are so very, very grateful.
When it came time for Annabelle to be born, you were there
by our sides. I have a very vivid memory of you being the one to present her to
me. Placing her on my chest and wrapping her in my arms. You told us she was perfect and beautiful,
and that we should be proud of her. You told us to talk to her; that she could
hear us and that she knew we were here and that we loved her. And through the tears and grief, we did. Our
little angel spent a perfect 20 minutes of life knowing nothing but pure
unconditional love.
We have both often said that you were our guardian angel
that night…and that we wouldn’t have made it through that night without
you. We look at you as one of the many
gifts our sweet Annabelle gave us. She
needed us to know that even during the darkest, most somber moments, there is
joy and goodness in this world. She needed us to meet you. And she needed you to meet her. You are the
only person in this world other than us who got to know Annabelle. You, like
us, were there for her first breath and her last. And you let her live that
short life with grace, dignity and love.
She left an imprint on your life that night, just as she did ours; and
we will always think of you when we think of her, and that will make us smile.
Eveline, you have a compassionate and caring nature that
cannot be taught in school; and a wisdom that reaches far beyond your
years. You were the perfect person to
accompany us on this journey, and it gives us comfort knowing that we have
someone out there other than us to share Annabelle‘s brief presence in this
world.
I’m not sure there will ever be enough words for Aaron and I
to convey just how grateful we are for all you’ve done for us – and for
Annabelle. We hope this letter serves as
a start. That it helps inspire you to
continue to help others as you’ve helped us. And that while no one should ever
have to meet such an angel in such dire circumstances, we are so very glad we
did.
xoxo,
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