Friendship

Image by gilderic via Flickr

We spent Christmas with my brother and his lovely family.

We left their home and their company on the 26th, to Eastern Texas, to our second home.

Big boy has been obsessed asking his dad and I about our friends from each stage of our life.

We were sharing with our kids about friendship and the different friends we've made along the way.

I told him about my elementary school friends, some of whom I am blessed to still be friends with as we have continued our friendship through life. They have shared my best and my worst. Our lives have moved to different directions, but we still have that special connection of knowing each other for more than three decades.

I also shared that I made beautiful friends during my ballet years. I haven't seen them, but I hold them close to my heart.

Then we moved to Law School friends. Dh and I share many from those years as we went together to Law School. My dear friend Tere now lives in Spain and my dear friend María José lives in the same city, but family life has gotten in the way of us meeting more frequently, although we love each other dearly.

We talked about some of their friends' moms, whom have become friends of mine. We have shared watching our own children grow and blossom. We share many values that we want to pass on to our children and friendship helps.

We arrived home. There, on our mailbox, was a little box for me. I opened it and I found a beautiful angel ornament from my dear friend Sharon. Even though the lateness of the hour, I still had to share more about my friends with my children.

I have met the most amazing women and men through grief. The death of my own children placed me in a sub-culture no one wants to belong to. I was to reach out in pain and met the most wonderful people on earth.

I had to talk about my MISS friends. I am blessed to have met many of them. Still, I haven't met - face to face - most of them. These are the most compassionate, loving people you could ever meet. We have shared the worst pain we have experienced and we are there for each other. We would willingly through ourselves into the pit of sorrow, to cyber-hold each other hand and slowly and gently get out of there to face another day.

Together, we have learned to take one day at a time, sometimes, just remember to breath in and breath out.

We have learned to live life again, even amidst the pain. We have learned to laugh and enjoy our time on earth the best way we can.

We share grief and rage and happiness and memories. But most important of all, we share our beautiful children.

I know I have said this before, but I am honored beyond words to have met these great children through the eyes of their loving parents.

It was time to go to bed. The children were yawning and tired.

Thank you, thank YOU my dear friends for making my life better. Thank YOU for filling it with love and compassion and grief and joy. Thank YOU for still being there for me, after all these years.

Thank YOU Sharon, this post is dedicated to the beautiful memory of smiling, gorgeous Shelby.

Memories...

Image by max's pixs via Flickr

Yesterday, my godson received his first communion. His parents celebrated their 11th wedding anniversary.

Eleven years ago, I was not able to attend their wedding. I was left in the US, waiting for my baby to leave my body by her own. The doctor decided that it was safer to be nearby in case I went into labor.

As we were celebrating as a family to joyous occasions, I could not help traveling through memory lane.

My husband came back for his brother's wedding and my mom traveled to be with me in case I needed to go to the hospital.

That day the genetic specialist called and gave me our diagnosis. I needed my dh to be by my side, and I couldn't tell my mom what I had learned.

I was my baby girl's tomb and life seemed not worth living.

As I wrote on my last post, I survived the pain and the sorrow, and eleven years later I am a better person because of my dead children.

Today is National Children Memorial Day: a worldwide event to remember all those precious children that died before their time.

No matter where you live. Please lit a candle at 7:00pm so during 24 hours, all around the world, candles burn in memory of the children that are loved, MISSed and that make this world a better place to live in.

Time goes on... and so does life

Image by massdistraction via Flickr

Eleven years ago yesterday, I woke up in the middle of the night with the gut feeling that my baby had died.

One week before, we had a successful ultrasound. The baby was healthy and thriving. Its little heart was beating fast and we were ecstatic.

I remember waking up my husband and telling him that I knew the baby had died. I had the urgency of picking up a name: for a boy, José Luis; for a girl, Carlota.

He told me to make an appointment for another ultrasound as soon as the doctor was open, and so I did. At 1:00 pm, we found out that our baby had died. She measured exactly the gestational age she was supposed to be.

In a blur, I went home and packed, and my husband made reservation to fly as soon as possible to our US doctor.

Today, eleven years ago, our worst nightmare was confirmed: our baby died. She had a neurotubal defect that claimed her life.

We spent together the next 20 days. I was not ready to let her go, even though I knew she was already gone. During those days, we had so many tests and exams done, that most of our time was spent at the hospital.

Finally, on December 22, I decided to have surgery to end my pregnancy.

I never got to see her or hold her. Her little body did not survive spending 20 days dead, nor the surgery.

We later found that she was a girl: thus Carlota was named.

Nobody remembered her yesterday, except me and my MISS friends. I am used now to the forgetfulness around me.

My body remembered in a not-so-funny way. I came down with bronchitis and laryngitis a week ago. Our bodies always remember those horrible, tragic moments, even if our minds try to block it out.

Eleven years ago, I was sure I would not survive the pain and sorrow of loosing my baby girl and her brother and sister, in less than 2 years. I thought I would die of sadness....

... Eleven years later, I am a survivor. I enjoy life -most of the time- to be honest. I love those three children that were given to me to be raised, they feel my life with joy and wonder. I love my husband more than I did back then. I am honored to have known so many wonderful children, whose lives ended before their time, through their loving parents' eyes.

Sweet girl, you will always, always be loved and MISSed. No matter how long I live, I will always remember you. Thank you for choosing me to be your mommy, you and your siblings have been the greatest teachers one could hope for.