When it rains, it pours, huh? I tried to organize myself and my Muchness takers to start on a rotating basis so I don’t freak out in 30 days setting up the new takers all at once, but, well, Im not gonna delay any Muchness Challengers when they are ready to put the pedal to the metal. And they are all amazing women with unique voices and unique takes on the Muchness Challenge and what Muchness is to them!
Jen has done a great job of describing herself and her recent journey. Our Rainbow babies were born just a week apart from each other, and we met, in large part, shortly before they were conceived, so we’ve hit a lot of pregnancy and infancy milestones together. Course, since I had my training wheels removed after Molly, I consider myself the resident expert. No. Not really. I just talk a lot 🙂
So, without any further ado, Let’s meet Jen!!
Life has a way of being unpredictable. You can be meandering along. Living a very ordinary existence. You make every attempt to life your life to the fullest. You trust people. Love your family. Meet your beloved. Say your vows. Work at a job. See friends. Make time for family. You live the best life you can and to the best of your ability.
Something knocks you off your rocker. Hurdles you full force into a place that, you have heard about, through other people’s stories (perhaps on the news or through a friend of a friend). But, you never thought could belong to you. You never thought you could sink so low and so deep. You never realized the depths of human emotion and how low it could go until you were forced (kicking and screaming) to enter this place.
For me, my life stopped and started over again when I entered this world of grief on May 6, 2009. It was on this day that I lost my first child, my daughter, Eva, at exactly five months gestation.
Until then, I was an extraordinarily, ordinary person. I had the ability to see the best in any situation. I trusted that things would always end up the way it should. I believed those motivational clichés that everything happens for a reason and to always see the silver lining in any situation.
But, when we lost our baby to a rare birth defect I stopped believing in these things.
When a mother loses a child, a part of her is lost forever. A mother and child are connected through a pulsing umbilical cord (whether still literally connected in utero or symbolically connected in life), the threads of their ties are very real. When a child dies, the cord stops beating. And the mother remains on earth and continues to hold that cord.
Some mothers of lost children are strangled by the cord, and lose control completely, allowing the grief to swallow them whole.
Although losing my little one rocked my core and altered my existence, I knew I had to choose to honor the life that was cut too short and learn from my little girl’s existence.To give something meaning means to give it value. In order to heal, in order to move on, I had to believe that my daughter was here for a reason. I vowed to continue to keep our cord connected through my actions each and every day. I had to live my LIFE to the fullest for my daughter, In order to honor Eva, whose name means “life,” I had to continue to live.
I learned not to take anything for granted, to appreciate all the blessings in my life. I vowed to love her father, my love, my husband, Rocco, who has literally been my rock. I embraced the miracle of my pregnancy and birth of my son, Luca. Through Luca, whose name means light, I’ve learned to focus on the good that comes out of each and every day. Luca is literally our light that came after the storm of the last couple years of heartache. And I truly am enjoying every minute that I get to watch him grow and get to hold and love him.
Through this trying journey, I’ve also been afforded the opportunity to meet a group of women on a support board who, unfortunately, have traveled the same baby loss path as I have. If it weren’t for these women I don’t know how I would have made it through the process. Tova is one of those women and although my heart aches that she had to experience the loss of her precious babies, I am thankful to know her. I am grateful to be given this opportunity to continue to honor my little girl. Although I vow to do so everyday, it’s that extra spark and passion that I hope to reignite and to add even more to my life through the 30 day Muchness challenge. I look forward to the journey….
I have included the picture because it includes items in my office that make me happy….the zen garden helps me to stay calm and collected (as does the cup of tea!). The pot with the hand prints was my Mother’s Day gift from Luca. You can’t imagine how much I cried when I received that gift :). The photo was from Hawaii where Rocco and I went on our honeymoon. I just smile and remember the wonderful easy going days we had in that amazing place.
Great intro, Jen! I felt exactly the same way. Life is good, glass is half full, people have good intentions, life is what you make of it.
Then the sky falls and you’re left in darkness.
I’m sorry for your loss.
When my first daughter started going to kindergarten, I spent the morning with my 2 year old making a painting on canvas out of different colored handprints. That is my favorite piece of art in the house 🙂 Kids handprints are so special!
I look forward to your muchness challenge!
Thanks, Dennel! It’s good to hear from someone who can relate.
And, yes, kids handprints are so special. And the most amazing thing is they were captured without my knowledge. The teacher cleaned his hands up and everything. And I had no clue :).
“When a child dies, the cord stops beating. And the mother remains on earth and continues to hold that cord.”
Jenn: So true. What a beautiful post… Standing here with my cord in hand, saying: Thanks for sharing your daughter’s brief life with us. So sorry she can’t be with you.
Tova, thanks for helping us finding bits of our muchness (again).
Thanks, Skytimes. I have always been meaning to write out my feelings, but never have. I am glad to have this opportunity.