The missing you will never stop. Ever. It will never "get better" and I don't ever ever want it to. I want to always feel this angst so that I can always feel you, remember you...miss you.
I miss how you would lay the yellow pillow on the floor next to your bed and request that we ask Jesus to sleep next to you, on it. And, then you would also request that your largest dinosaur, Rexi, would stand next to that pillow and also guard you at night. Why didn't they guard you better??
I miss how you would run to Ivy's side and quickly sing the "ABC's" to her when she was fussing. The "ABC's" was your favorite song to sing.
I miss how you would find the letter V in every written thing.
(first time she wrote her name)
I miss how you would point to the hills on our drive to Grammy's and say "there's Dragon Mountain, Mama. The dragons are sleeping up there".
I miss how you could make Ivy belly laugh. She hasn't had a really good belly laugh ever since you've been gone, my sweet Girl.
I miss how you would ask Daddy to send me up after he tucked you into bed, because you wanted a hug from me. Then I would lay down next to you and sing and we would just cuddle. I loved whispering on the pillow with you.
I miss the little things....like seeing if you could buckle your carseat before I put Ivy in on her side.
I miss being offered a sticker at New Seasons...and how you would always choose the red fire truck or a pirate.
I miss reading books with you at nap and bedtime! Dinosaurumpus - a true favorite..."shake shake shudder near the sludgy old swamp, the dinosaurs are coming, get ready to ROMP!". We also loved Give a Mouse a Cookie, The Gruffalo, Chicka Chicka Boom Boom and soo soo many more.
I miss reading the Bible with you. Those were stories you really paid attention to. You loved learning about Jesus. Just recently, you could define "baptism" and "disciple".
I miss going to the library with you once a week. You would run straight in to the kid's computer and play a Dora game, while I looked at the shelves nearby for a load of new books to take home at read at bedtime. I love choosing new stories to read to you. It was always something exciting to look forward to when we got home.
I miss your "break dancing" moves.
(here she is saying "hi-YA!!")
I miss putting 2 carrots and 2 beans on your plate at dinner every night.
I miss finding pieces of tape stuck to surfaces all over the house. Tape. The cheapest "sticker" replacement. You loved tape. It could fix anything.
I miss coming downstairs every Saturday morning to find you and Daddy making pancakes. I miss how Daddy used to form your pancakes into different objects each time...from alphabet letters to dinosaurs.
I miss making you chocolate milk and chocolate smoothies. I'm going to let you in on a little secret...your chocolate mix was really a chocolate flavored Green Food powder. Little did you know, you were getting an organic salad in each of your smoothies. ;) (I promise to play the same trick on your sister)
I miss painting toes with you.
My Sweet Darling, this is just the worst thing ever. None of it will ever make sense to me. No answer in all the world will ever satisfy my raging "WHYs???"
Most of all, my Vienne, I miss hearing my name...."Mama?"
So, it's been made pretty clear that Vienne's favorite toys were her precious dinosaurs, dragons, and horses...and Lightning McQueen cars. There was a huge entourage of characters that came out at each play time. Amongst this collection of what would be stereotyped as more "masculine" toys, she did have 2 special My Little Ponies...bright pink and sparkly plastic figurines. I always loved to point out that Mark named these two ponies, on a sarcastic whim one day - "Party" and "Sparkle". The names stuck. And, guess who had to always play "Party" and "Sparkle"? Yup, good 'ole Dad. In girly voices. Vienne, of course, played the dinosaurs in their adeventures. And, she deemed the two frilly ponies as the villains in their play time.
I always loved the irony of it all. It was always so perfect. So magical. So Vienne.
While cooking dinner, I would over hear things like "run run...Party and Sparkle are after us!!"
Play time with all of these characters was almost a constant in our household. When Dad was home, that's all that they did...morning and evening. Vienne was blessed with the BEST Daddy in the whole world. A Daddy who couldn't wait to get home to play with his imaginative little girl. Their bond was so so strong.
Mommies, Daddies out there ~ Please play with your kids. Jump into their adventures. It is something that you will never regret. You will never look back and say "I sure wish I didn't play with them so much". Yes, sometimes it is silly and boring to us adults. But, the bond you create with your child is worth it all. I am so glad to say that I played with my Daughter. We played 'Duck Duck Goose' with her characters (and yes, I did most of the running!). We played dress up with all of them...using hair bands as necklaces and bracelets, clips on their tails...and had a "party". We played doctor with the dinos. We played hide and seek with the ponies. I always tried to give Vienne the confidence that she and her sister were Number 1 to me. I will never regret this.
Here is a sweet video of Party and Sparkle smashing the lincoln log fortress that her Daddy built for the dinos and dragons and other friends (how AMAZING is that fortress?!!).
I fear that I have been misguided. I fear that my prayers were naive. I had no clue I was so naive.
When I entered into motherhood, I really fully believed, with utmost (naive) confidence, that if I surrendered my children to God and covered them with the power of prayer, regularly, that they would be protected. I believed this beyond a shadow of a doubt. I prayed this with authority. I would go into Vienne's room at night and ask God to send His angels to stand guard over the four corners of her bed. My biggest fear EVER on this earth has been of losing a child...but I never believed it would happen because I was so confident in my prayers over their safety.
Vienne, even, was so confident. She believed with such a beautiful unwavering faith. She would often make a bed, next to her bed on the floor, just for Jesus. She would ask me to ask Jesus to come and sleep next to her.
Jesus, why did you not protect my Baby????!!
Why did you betray me??
How am I ever supposed to pray with confidence over Ivy's safety now? Why the hell should I? What is the point of praying if you're still going to allow this kind of horror to happen? I don't know if I will ever be able to trust like that again. I have seen, now, that it doesn't work. The ultimate worst has happened.
I know I won't stop believing in You. But, my view of prayer and trust is forever altered.
It's been said over and over again - "this little girl was something special"..."extraordinary"..."enchanting"..."remarkable"..."weird" even.
I've read that it is common of grieving parents to over-emphasize the seemingly perfect qualities of their deceased child. I don't want to fall into stereotypes, but those of you who knew Vienne would know that I am not exaggerating when I boast about her. I need to jot down my memories of this rare Gift I was given in Vienne and emphasize that she was definitely not like the rest. I want to...need to remember every little tiny minute detail about her. I want to always be able to come and read these things and be wrapped up in her. I can never let her go.
My friends will attest to all of this. Too often was I asked questions like "did Vienne ever do this: _______" (regarding something challenging or difficult) and most of the time I sheepishly answered "no". She truly was the exception.
She was a rule follower. She thrived off of following rules. Even when the other kids would not listen, she would be the only one to cling to the established set of rules. When there was a rule, she would not disobey. I only realized that this was rare and almost odd when I would watch after other children. I would find myself repeating a "rule" and stand in shock as these other children would actually not listen! I didn't even know what to do. Vienne listened. I was spoiled.
I remember the very first time I had to "teach" Vienne something with a bit of gentle discipline. She was about 10 months old and starting to "furniture hop"...you know, walk along holding onto furniture and the walls. One day, we were in her room and she came to an outlet with baby plugs in it. She reached out to touch it and I gently but firmly said "no touch". It was the first time I had used this voice with her. I distinctly remember her gripping the edge of the toy box she was holding onto, lowering her head and breaking down into tears. When she recovered, she reached out again...this was all new to her...this voice of Mama's. This time, I put my hand over her hand and pushed it down to her side while saying again, "no touch". Again, she repeated the crying. This happened just a thrid time, with a firmer voice and hand from me and then it was over. In 4 1/2 yrs of her life, she never, not once, touched an outlet. From then on, she understood "no touch" and it was smooth sailing for us all.
(scaling the walls before fully walking)
I could teach her to avoid something unsafe just by explaining the dangers of it when she was older. She would easily respect anything with potential danger. So cautious. She would never ever walk from the edge of the car, in a parking lot, without holding my hand. If I had forgotten to grab her hand, in the bustle of carrying Ivy, the purse, and bags, Vienne would stay by the side of the car and cry out for my hand. On walks, when she ran up ahead, she would always always stop at the edge of the sidewalk and never cross without holding our hands. She never played around on the counter for she knew the dangers of falling off. She never carried anything big up or down the stairs for she knew the dangers of falling. She never stood up in the bath tub or splashed or played near the faucet. etc. etc.
Vienne did not have temper tantrums until probably the last year...and there were maybe 3-4 total. It was rare and always took me by surprise. If they did happen, it was almost always because she was tired and irrational...and had hurt feelings. They never lasted long and could always be remedied with a hug (after I established my will over hers with appropriate loving discipline).
Vienne potty trained at 2 1/2 yrs. old in 2 hours. Yes, you read that right. 2 hours. We read a book called "How to Toilet Train in Less Than a Day". I thought it sounded ridiculous but decided to read it and give it a go. It worked. In her 2 years of being potty trained since then, she had about 3-5 potty accidents in her pants, never pooped her pants, and never ever wet her bed.
Obviously, she was a perfectionist. She did not like to try something until she was sure she could do it right. When she did wet her pants, of those 3-5 times, she was always upset at herself, even though we were never upset with her. She was very articulate with her speech. She would not try a new word until she knew she could confidently say it correctly. If she stumbled over it, she would give up and say "that word is too hard for me". Then, of course, I would break it down for her and she would get it right. This is why I never corrected the rare words that she did mis-pronounce because they were little treasures to me (ie: fligilator, burrrtiful...etc)
I know this is silly, but Vienne never vomited. Nope. I never had to clean up kid vomit. And, she never had blow outs in her diapers when she was a baby. I would hear about it all the time and never experienced it from her. (...until Ivy, who is a different story!)
She almost always said please and mostly "thank you". And, she always said "excuse me" when talking to an adult, while they were talking.
We could always take her to restaurants and events and always expect good behavior. No throwing, no yelling, no whining, and no messes. We were even brave enough to take her to some "nicer" restaurants and were always complimented on her incredible behavior by older patrons, who would watch us from across the establishment. It was so nice.
I know I said it before, but I swear she never pushed or shoved or exhibited any ill-intent towards any other children. Ever. I was always told that she was the "teacher's favorite" in Sunday School. She was just truly truly kind to the core. An encourager.
She loved babies. Just loved them. She was always so gentle and patient with all of them...not just her sister. If a friend had a baby sister or brother, she always loved to sit and play with the baby or give the baby a ton of attention...and help as much as she could.
(feeding cousin Miriam)
She was always calm and gentle. I never baby-proofed our home - I simply taught her about the things she could not touch. I remember from a young baby age, like when she was sitting up on her own, I could place her in the corner on the counter and she would just stay there with me while I cooked. I could always place her on the counter and she would just stay put. As she got older, she would help me cook and she was always such a sweet and dedicated helper.
She was that child that if you gave her a treat and told her to wait to eat it, she would always hold onto it and obey. Sometimes, even, she would get a treat and hold onto it and save it to relish later, on her own time. She was never in a rush. And, she truly enjoyed sharing. It was a delight to her to be able to share with a friend, something that she cherished and loved...to share the same joy that she got out of whatever it was.
Oh and she was clean. Tidy. "Meticulous and methodical" were earlier descriptions of her when her personality started to blossom as a baby. I remember one time she was at our friends house for the afternoon, and she came out from their bathroom to my girlfriend and told her that she couldn't go potty because the toilet was dirty!! Oh my. I was a bit embarrassed. Thankfully, it was one of my best girlfriends! ha!
(oops! I lied. I found a picture of a mess. See. She wasn't really perfect.)
Snotty, sassy, bratty, rebellious, feisty, moody...were never words used to describe her. Yes, there were times I was even almost "embarrassed" for I could not relate to other moms in their "trials" with their kids. I felt bad that Vienne always seemed so "perfect". I don't feel bad anymore. She was my perfect angel and I will brag, unashamed, forever.
And, then all of this probably makes her sound maybe a bit boring, though, right? But, no. No, this girl was the opposite of boring! Her name meant "vibrant and full of life" and so she was! She was my tomboy princess. If you've read other posts, you've read about her crazy fun imagination...her love for adventure and creative play. She was funny and goofy and unpretentious. She loved wholly and unconditionally.
(while other little girls were running around in tutus and dreaming of princesses and ballerinas my little girl was running around in Lightning McQueen jammy shirts, sporting a dragon painting on her cheek, and wielding a sword as she "smashed the ants"!)
(sword fighting with Daddy, dressed in a pink satin Chinese princess dress and armor, wielding a sword and shield, of course)
To this day, I remember all of these stories, still with awe. How in the world??! I don't know. I guess it was God cooupled with our parenting...that is the only reasonable explanation for her extraordinary personality. She truly was an angel.
(And, yes, I am fully fully aware of this "high standard" that Ivy will live under. I am striving to remain aware of this. I will make mistakes in my expectations...I anticipate this. I fear it. But, I don't expect Ivy to be Vienne's duplicate. I know she won't be. No one could ever replace Vienne. Ivy is her own and she is lovely.)
(copied & pasted from an old blog of mine...therefore, this was written a few years ago)
Vienne Juliet's incredible little self was created in late July of '07. This time of the year was coincidentally significant to us because it was exactly 9 months after the conception of our first child, whom we had lost in a miscarriage the day after that previous Christmas '06. I must admit, that when we discovered we were pregnant again I was initially scared and hesitant. And, who wouldn't be? The last time I had conceived I had experienced a traumatic death within my womb. BUT, God is faithful! The month in which that first child was to be born, He placed our precious daughter within my womb. How incredible is that?!
Overall, my pregnancy was spectacular...Thank you, sweet Child of mine and thank you Jesus. Sure, the first 12 weeks were rough. I had bouts of constant nausea and I battled with severe sinus problems...symptoms like a harsh cold that lasted for 10 weeks straight! But, hey, I never threw up and for that I am thankful. Once I cleared the 12 wk. mark, it was smooth sailing for us both. I remember, at 20 wks, when we had our first and only ultrasound taken - that's when this experience became real for both Mark and I. We saw this little person up on the screen, as it grabbed its little toes and pulled them into 'its' mouth. I say 'it' because we opted to not find out her sex. Because of the rambunctiousness of the baby during that experience, we were sure she was a boy. (I later learned that most babies are "active" during ultra sounds because they really don't like the heat of the machine or so my midwife informed me...interesting to consider for the next time).
During the following months, I maintained a healthy pregnancy by eating tons and tons of vegetables, ALL organic foods, taking a whole food prenatal along with cod liver oil, and receiving regular chiropractic adjustments. I believe that these efforts contributed to helping me breeze through those months...I honestly never felt better in my life! My chronic digestive issues took a side seat for a while and I was full of energy (I almost miss the days!).
Early on, way before we even got pregnant, we had decided to have a natural birth with a midwife. Let me tell you, I found the best midwives...what a blessing they were to my entire experience! My prenatal appointments were like friendly get-togethers, on the couch, over a cup of tea. I was given their undivided attention for as long as I needed. I had home visits, where we just sat on my bed and marveled over my belly. None of that cold Dr. office exam room experience when the Dr. just sweeps in and out. This was a true experience...the way it should be. Midwives honor each and every pregnancy and birth...each one is treated like a miracle, as it well should be. Anyway, so our plan was to have our baby at home, in our large corner soaking tub, in our master bath. My master bathroom has windows that look out over the forest...such a peaceful and serene environment.
My due date was May 2, 2008. I celebrated my 30th birthday 3 wks. prior - all plump and happy. As the day drew near, I must admit that I was not ready. Sure, I was excited to meet this child, but I just was not quite ready to give up my self-focused maidenhood. Of course, the Lord knew how ready I was for that! The day before I went into labor, I remember I was romping all around town (Cannon Beach) bursting with energy. I was SURE I would not have this baby for another week. Little Lady inside had a different plan.
That night, at 1:30 am on May 1, 2008, exactly the day before my due date, I went to the bathroom and that's when my first contraction, ever, started. I remember thinking "hhmmm...is this just a tummy ache?". I crawled back into bed and felt another contraction...I started counting them out at every 5 minutes for the next half hour. By 2:00, I woke Mark up. We called the midwife and she just told us to get as much rest as possible and call back when things got more intense. I remember thinking 'well, what does that mean?' So, Mark went back to bed for a short bit. We were both so relaxed about it all. I took a long hot shower. Probably for the next 3 1/2 hours, I quietly labored in the darkness of our bedroom, between the shower and the yoga ball, as things got more intense. Of course, Mark was awake by then and setting things up - pulling out towels and heating water and such. The contractions we progressing, of course, but all I remember was just being in the rhythm of it all. I was not a screamer. I think maybe at one point, I miserably told Mark that it hurt. ha. By 5:30am we called Adele back and told her we thought things were getting more intense, like a minute long and a minute apart, and we asked if it was alright to draw the bath...she emphatically said "YES! she should be in the water!". (I had been avoiding it because I didn't want it to slow things down as I heard that it could if you get in too early). We also called our doula/midwife-in-training, Jennifer, who lived just 20 minutes away (Adele lived an hour and a half away, in Portland). I labored on the yoga ball while Mark prepared the bath. By 6:00am I climbed in. And I remember that the moment I hit the water, I felt the urge to push. It freaked us both out. We were all alone and really had NO clue how far along I really was. My sweet Mark tried to check but he had no clue what he was doing...thankfully, he is not a queezy man. By 6:30 Jennifer arrived and I was already in "transition". She immediately checked my and the baby's vitals and quickly announced that I was already 10cm and ready to go!! Holy cow were we surprised! I knew I had wanted to push, but I was so afraid to without anyone there! I was afraid of pushing too early. Jennifer encouraged me to follow my body's lead...and NOT to force it. I specifically remember her telling me to NOT force a push..but to let my body do the pushing (SOO opposite of what 'doctors' tell you). I learned that when you force the push, that's when you really can tear and it goes against your body's instincts. Your body knows how to birth without you interfering! This entire experience was about me getting in touch with my body and my ability to do what God made my body to do. Incredible! So, anyway, Jennifer stayed at my side while Mark soothingly brushed my hair between contractions. I just remember that Jennifer's presence was so calming and reassuring...she was quiet but so confidently reliable during the hard pushes. Mark says I wasn't really verbal at all, just quietly moaning into my bath pillow. I do remember asking if this was going to carry on for hours and Jennifer just laughed and asked "why do you think that?". I pathetically said "because that's what most women go through..." and she very firmly said "no". I think I might have pushed for less than an hour but I don't even remember it being that long.
The candles in the bathroom were lit, soft praise music was playing, the day was breaking and at 7:38 am on May 1, 2008 a little girl was born. We pulled this tiny little baby up onto my chest and wept over her beauty. We were so enthralled by the pure miracle before us that we even forgot to check her sex for a few moments! And, there she was, 6 lbs 6 oz, 19" long, all curled up and bright-eyed on my chest. Not a peep she made. She just cooed and gurgled and looked up at her Daddy. She was covered in this marvelous thick white coating called vernix that we just rubbed into her skin, like lotion, and let it soak in, leaving her with the most luxuriously soft skin.
By 8:30 am my midwife, Adele, finally showed up! Yes, she was an hour late. She was sure that my labor would last longer. Nope, just 6 hours! As it turned out, Mark and I labored together for the first 5 hours and thankfully Jennifer showed up for the final hour to guide us along. After Vienne's placenta was birthed, we transitioned to bed. Shortly thereafter, my mom and sis finally showed up...totally bummed that they, too, had missed the big event. My labor was so quick that all of our plans for a long and arduous labor had flown out the window.
It was such a beautiful and peaceful experience. No doctors, no cold rooms, no drugs, and no rush. In the end, we were actually happy that most of our expected 'helpers' were a bit late - Mark and Jennifer were the perfect company that strove to maintain a peaceful and lovely labor. I would do it all over again in a heart beat!
And, this is the story of how our beautiful Vienne Juliet came into our world.
