What I Can Remember About Her Funeral

It had been unseasonably warm in the days leading up to Eleanor’s funeral.  I remember noting the sunshine and only needing a light jacket as we shuttled around town, meeting with people and making arrangements. But the second worst day of my life was really cold and gray and damp. Which seemed fitting, if a little on the nose. Like a movie of the funeral of a loved one.

I have inconsistent memories from that day, little flashes that I remember vividly then big black holes in between.

Like screaming at my exhausted, grieving parents, siblings, and in laws because I thought we were going to be late (we weren't).

Or realizing I had to go to the bathroom and having some kind stranger who worked at the church take me by the hand and lead me to the bathroom because something about the way I looked must have clearly showed I was in capable getting myself to the bathroom like a normal adult.

And running into a close friend’s husband on my way to the bathroom and seeing his slightly horrified face as we made eye contact and passed each other wordlessly.

At some point I noticed that My OB/GYN along with some of the other doctors and staff were seated, in a pew towards the back of the church.

I wore a dress and shoes that my sisters went out and purchased the day before the funeral and then returned after because I didn’t want the dress hanging in my closet.  I couldn't really even tell you what it looked like - dark stripes, I think. The shoes were cute but too big.

Before the service began, they led us into a small side room where we could spend sometime with her body. She was a beautiful, sleeping baby and I really thought I might stop breathing.  We buried her in the outfit we had picked to bring her home from the hospital. A multi-colored polka dotted fleece hooded sweater and pink pants. She looked cozy and comfortable. She also wore a bracelet pink tiny beaded that her great aunt had made her. Her little white casket was impossible.  A friend later wrote that she couldn’t bear the idea of a casket that small needed to exist. Me neither. I couldn’t bring myself to touch her skin but I laid my hand on her little belly for several minutes.  Members of our family were in the little room with us and Dan made a short speech about how much we loved her.

There weren’t a lot of people at the service. I look back now and know I likely didn’t do a good job of making people feel welcome to come. I didn’t really share the details or invite many people - torn between wanting people to be sad and know how important she was but also not wanting anybody to look at me.  I am very grateful to the brave friends who just showed up.

During the funeral the priest conducting the services got my name wrong. He called me Amber or Allison or something like that. I don't really remember caring much, though I found out our family priest who had traveled down from Joplin to participate in the service - along with row of some very close friends - were infuriated.

As is traditional after a funeral, we had planned to invite people over to our house or maybe it was supposed to be in a room at the church. We had even arranged some trays of sandwiches and fruit. But after the graveside service, I couldn’t stomach the thought of it and quietly told our church director to tell people not to come over.  I'm not sure how word spread but no one showed up and I don't know what became of the trays of food.  I went to sleep for several hours and that's pretty much everything I remember from that day.

Her grandfather, Dan's dad, wrote her obituary, which was also printed in the funeral program:

Our angel left us quickly to brighten Heaven forever. Eleanor Lee Ashley was born to Amanda Claire Ashley and Daniel Lee Ashley of Fayetteville, Arkansas on February 5, 2012 and passed away shortly after birth. In addition to her parents, she is survived by her grandparents Jeff and Mary Hughey of Joplin, Missouri, Larry and Martha Ashley of Simpsonville, SC, her four aunts Sarah Hughey of Chicago, Illinois, Courtney Hughey of Wolf, Wyoming, Emily Hughey of Joplin Missouri, and Lisa Schilling of Rockhill,SC, her Uncle Chris Hughey and his fiancee Jessie Cupp of Springfield, Missouri and Uncle Jonathan Schilling of Rockhill, SC, her cousins Wyatt, Bratcher, and Alice Schilling of Rockhill, SC. 

She will be missed and remembered as a soft and precious treasure forever.

The Funeral will be held at Saint Joseph's Catholic Church on Thursday February 9, 2012 at 1:00 p.m., with Father Larry Heimsoth presiding. Interment will follow at Fairview Memorial Gardens.

Eleanor's 2nd Birthday

This year we had the idea to not just release balloons here in Arkansas, but to involve friends and family around the country.  I love the idea that over the course of the day and across several states, memories and thoughts of Eleanor soared into the sky.

As a long shot, I even attached tags to the balloons that included the address to this blog so that if a stranger would find it and look it up, they would see just the sort of loving legacy Eleanor left behind.

I will update as more of the pictures come in from friends and family, but here is a look:

ARKANSAS

MISSOURI

OKLAHOMA

TEXAS

SOUTH CAROLINA

How Do I Make it Not Sad for Him?

I took this picture on Christmas Day.  A typical holiday pilgrimage to a place no one wants to spend their holidays.  Where Eleanor is buried is very lovely.  It's in a particularly pretty area of Fayetteville, the grounds are softly hilly, there's a even duck pond.  Folks in the neighborhood are always in it on nice days, using it almost like a neighborhood park - walking dogs and jogging.

I think Ed will like coming here for those reasons but, while I love this picture of him in his Christmas outfit, reaching happily for his sister's flowers, looking at this image also fills me with anxiety for the future.

I want to celebrate Eleanor.  Include her in family events, remember my pregnancy and her life.  And we do.  But how and when do I begin to broach the topic with my joyful baby.  He's one now and their birthdays are very close together in the calendar year.  Which means every January 28th we celebrate the happiest day of my life and a scant 8 days later we struggle through Eleanor's birthday.

I never want him to dread her day or the mention of her name and I don't want him to feel sad - ever. But I want him to know her, to love her with us.

I guess we'll navigate this pass the same way we have made it through all of the other impossible situations presented to parents who don't have their children to hold.  Do it because we must. Figure it out because we've been given no other option.  Be natural and cautious, happy and heartbroken.

But if someday, somewhere, some mom finds this entry and knows just what to do - please, please advise.

Essay Featured in Child Loss Magazine

Still Standing is an online magazine dedicated to survivors of child loss and infertility.  I have gotten so much out of its articles, many of which are guest submissions by moms who have experienced loss.

Back in July, an essay I wrote was selected to be featured as a guest submission.  Titled "Family of Four, Party of Three", it's about the social awkwardness of explaining your family situation to friendly, well-meaning strangers. It was therapeutic for me to write it and my hope is that maybe a mom out there felt supported by the words.  

Because I am not sure if I'm allowed to share the text in full here, please read the essay on the Still Standing website.

Photo credit: Addison's Keepsakes

Eleanor's First Birthday

It was a date that loomed on the calendar for months.  Eleanor's first birthday.  I knew I wanted to do something to celebrate and remember her but had no idea how to proceed.  I mean, what person on the planet wants to mark a their child's birthday like this?

Edison's healthy arrival just 8 days before helped to give me strength.  But recovering from surgery and a newborn limited what could be done.

In the end we settled on a balloon release.  Just family and held at her spot at Fairview Memorial Gardens.  It's hard for me to call it her grave - I avoid the term, along with cemetery, when I can.

The weather was ridiculously nice, as though the universe knew it was important to make the day as beautiful and happy as possible.  Dan's family went to her spot earlier in the morning, putting out a cheerful fresh flower arrangement, swapping out the more permanent, weather-sturdy, decorations that are usually there.

Every member of the family released a purple balloon.  Each balloon had a tag, handmade by two of my dear friends.  they wrote her name and birthday on each of the 20+ tags, then drew an elephant on the back of each.  I think back to just over one year ago, and wonder how I could have ever prepared them or myself for the idea that they would be helping plan Eleanor's first in such a strange and sad way.

We released Ed's balloon last.  Untied it from his carrier and set it free.  All the balloons were picked up by the wind quickly and carried high into the sky.

Maybe someone found one of the cards when they fell back to Earth and wondered who Eleanor was and understood from this small gesture that she must be really loved.  I hope so.

Thanksgiving and Christmas

Thanksgiving and Christmas were bound to be fraught with dangerous opportunities to be sad.  But I'd like to say right now that the bulk of the holidays were awesome.  Full of family and laughing and new happy memories.  Everyone in my immediate family (all five kids across 4 states) got together along side significant others for Turkey Day at my parents house.  Christmas was fun and low key first with Dan's family, newly transplanted to Fayetteville and then with mine, back to Joplin, for gifts and meals and FaceTime with the one sibling that couldn't be there.

Now I will indulge myself by recounting the parts of the holidays that weren't so great.

No Baby's First Christmas

That's it.  All of it summed up in one phrase.  The day after Thanksgiving is when my family puts up decorations and all the old keepsake ornaments were unboxed and hung haphazardly on the tree, just like every year before.  But there was no baby's first ornament to hang.  No new person to buy presents for.  No little one to bundle up and bring to church.  No early bedtimes or feedings to interrupt late night board games or conversations. No one's every move being overly documented on cameras and phones.

I am looking forward to next year, when the Pick arrives.  The closeness of these two pregnancies means he will be almost exactly the same age for Christmas 2013 that Eleanor would have been for 2012.  I can't wait 'til we can celebrate with him and hold him.  But I wonder how often I will look at him during those first sets of holidays and think about how similar Eleanor's experience might have been just 365 days prior, in a parallel universe where she lived instead of left.

I am once again blown away by my friends.  A group of girls whom I have been friends with here in Fayetteville for years gave me a beautiful ornament for Eleanor.  A silver, wire elephant that has an E hanging from it.  Simple, not overly sentimental, not sad, just a nice way to bring her into our Christmas visuals.  I love it.  I had been dragging my feet about putting together a holiday card this year but once I had that keepsake, I had a little easier time sending them out.  I loved being able to include her on our card.

When we were planning for E, I kept gravitating towards elephants for decorations.  Elephants - Eleanor, it's not a great puzzle as to why.

But after we lost her, I thought more about these elephants.  They can carry great loads and the old saying is that they never forget.

That's such true sentiments for moms who have lost.

I love you and miss you, Eleanor.  I am remembering you this Christmas, everyday, and looking forward to next year.

9 Months: Good News

Today, Eleanor would have been 9 months old.  I hate that she missed Halloween.  I really felt her absence among the babies of friends dressed up and paraded through work and in my own family as my niece and nephews came over to trick or treat.  We had looked forward to her first costume - a hand me down plush Dumbo the Elephant costume - now tucked into a large drawer in a dresser sitting just to the left of me as I write this post.

But today was a big day for our little family.  We had our second appointment to see the genetics specialist in Little Rock.  I had worked myself up into an anxiety ball in the weeks leading up to this appointment.  We were there to look again at the diaphragm to make sure it was not herniated.  Plus a look at any other warning signs that may indicate that Pick was going to have problems.

I am happy to report they could find nothing out of the ordinary.  By all accounts Pick is a healthy, growing baby.  He even had the hiccups while they were taking pictures, as if to show off his strong diaphragm.

Dr. Wendell said there was nothing that made him nervous about what he saw.  He added that this far along, he felt that if something was wrong, there would be something off, some sort of visible indicator.  He tempered this optimism with the required acknowledgement that in our situation, we cannot know until he is here.  But overall, I could tell he was very confident about the results.

I'll say again today what I think every moment - it will never be okay that Eleanor isn't here.  I am so glad to know that Pick is getting close to making his arrival and that it would seem, at least for now, that he will not be sick.  But I love him alongside my daughter, not instead.  Sometimes, I think (torture myself) with the idea that if Eleanor had lived we would not be having this baby boy.  That loving and looking forward to Pick is at the expense of her.  But today I had a better thought.

Without having Eleanor, there would be no Pick.  If I had not given birth to my beautiful daughter and experienced her short life in 2012, then surely I would not have had her brother in 2013.

Of course, it still doesn't make it okay. I am just so bad at being noble or strong.  I really tried to be genuine and positive in this post but it still feels like such crap.  I will never, ever understand why I cannot have and love them both.  On some level I will never fully accept it.  At least not in this life.  Though I am genuinely hopeful that someday I will gain an understanding that is not available to me here.

And that IS the truth.  I promise.

6 Months

August 5th marked Eleanor Lee's six months.  It's been hard every month but this was especially hurtful because when I was pregnant I had very specific plans for this day.

Dan and I have always joked that one of the perks of having children will be that we can finally buy one of those ugly plastic wading pools they sell at the grocery store for the back yard. We talked about how nice it would be that Eleanor would be 6 months old and still have a solid month of warm weather to enjoy. We would have bought the very smallest of the plastic pools. She would be steady enough to hold her head up and, maybe with the help of her bumbo chair, don her very first swimsuit and have her very first dip in the pool!

So that's why I am especially sad on her 6 month day.  Because I had so clearly pictured how this day would be and, of course, it looks very different.

But there is some good.  We are 15 weeks along, awaiting our second child.  The risks are scary, one in 10, so they say.  But we are praying and hoping everyday that this will be out take home baby.  There are so many here that are waiting to meet this sibling.  And I feel that Eleanor is rooting for us and, if she can, doing everything to get this baby here and home.

But I will never call this baby my Rainbow Baby, as is often the terminology among parents who have experienced a loss.  I understand the thought behind the words but they just aren't for me.  Eleanor was not a storm I had to endure and this baby will not be my reward for losing her or a symbol of the end of the grief.  She was a beautiful first child and I will love her and miss her and enjoy remembering her forever.

One Month

Eleanor would have been one month old today.  I cannot believe it has been a whole month but at the same time, my old self feels very far away.  I can hardly remember how it feels to not feel sad and when I think of happy memories, they feel so poignant.  I look back at the old versions of me and can't help but think, "That girl never saw this coming."  Irreverent is gone.  Content is gone.  But I hope one day they will be back.

I went to her site today and the flowers we left yesterday looked fresh and happy.  The weather was beautiful so I sat down for a while.  Eleanor is not at Fairview Memorial Gardens.  I know that.  But it's a really nice, peaceful place to remember and reach out to her.  I talked to her, noting the day.  I said I thought if she had stayed, we probably would have spent some time outside together today.  Told her I figured by now she would be a little bigger already, maybe out of some of her tiniest clothes and up a size in diapers.  That so many friends and relatives would have wanted to see pictures of her progress, so I would have had to put her in a really good outfit.  Today would have marked the halfway point of my maternity leave - something else I pointed out.

To the outside world I am sure I looked nuts - I was sitting there talking to myself after all.  But talking out loud felt better than just thinking the thoughts racing in my head.  It gave them a pace and rhythm, rather than the flood of jumbled mess that happens when I am silent.

I have never been someone who talked out loud to myself but I firmly intend to do it again.  Only time will tell if this is something I will do to help heal - or if this is the beginning of the mental break I have felt on the verge of since this happened.
We'll see...

Before I got up, I apologized to her.  I have done this before and I am not sure what I am sorry for.  Sorry she can't be here.  Sorry her earthly life amounted to 14 minutes of a fated fight to live. Sorry to my family and friends who'll never know her.  Sorry to Dan that this was to be his future when he married me. Sorry for myself.

I also told her she was a good girl.  Dan said this same thing to her at the funeral.  "You're a very good girl" he said over and over again.  I really liked that.  I like to think it would have been something he would have repeated to her through her life as she grew.  Maybe it would become something of a catchphrase around our house.  Maybe she would jokingly throw the words back at him when in trouble for something, pointing out to him that she was, in fact, a very good girl.

But instead we will have to settle for our eternally perfect girl who just wasn't made for this earth.