Our beautiful baby daughter Anabelle was born sleeping June 2010.
Blessed with the screaming arrivals of our gorgeous rainbow sons,
Alexander October 2011, Zachary November 2013 and Lucas July 2016.

After Anabelle - Raising Rainbows
Heartbreak. Joy. Death. Life. But most of all Love.

Thursday, 18 April 2013

What She Sounded Like

This is what my little girl sounded like, alive. 

This, the only recording we have of the sounds Anabelle could make. The beautiful sound of her little heart beating away. She sounds like a train doesn't she!

But then she stopped. She stopped beating and it is never, ever going to be OK.

A heart that should have long out-beat mine. I'm having one of those 'difficult to process this is actually my life' moments. 

Today is the first time I've listened to this since she died. For over two and a half years the recording has been safely stored away. The sound of her alive. A few days ago I got the urge to listen to her, my baby girl, after nearly three years.   

And it is painful. Because this little 34 second clip reminds me she really was alive. Of course I know that, but sometimes wonder if other people forget that she was alive even though she wasn't born. She died. Her little heart stopped and its the deafening silence that haunts me. 

We've been robbed of our daughter, our beautiful baby daughter. Xander has been robbed of his sister who he would have adored and there is a hole in our family forever. 
Tuesday, 9 April 2013

Picks of the Week Fourteen

Driving my own Ferrari

Captain of my trolley ship!

The best way to get around Mothercare

Helping Mummy with the housework

On the fair!

Wednesday, 3 April 2013

Desperate Trust

Easter; all about resurrection, new life. 

Over this weekend I read this post by Beth Morey. I'd never thought of God as a bereaved parent before reading Beth's post. Her faith and outlook often challenge me to look at my own, to see things in a better way; but this time I'm struggling to get past that,  after three days Jesus rose from the dead. On a personal level, God had to wait just three days for his son to live.  Being a bereaved parent wasn't quite the same. Even though I know the purpose and bigger picture of Jesus death, I'm struggling to get past, that for us, no-one we love is raised from the dead. That Anabelle cannot be raised from the dead. Just three days of heartbreak wasn't an option for us. Forever. 

Beth, like me is a bereaved parent. Her firstborn, a little girl called Eve, was born asleep, she too has gone on to have a beautiful rainbow son. I often relate so much to Beth's posts, her writing is honest and so brave, and so full of faith. She explore areas of her grief and fears for the future that I know and feel but am not yet brave enough, ready enough to share here. 

And then there is her faith, I admire her faith in God, a faith I fail at daily.  I admire that in the face of her loss she is able to trust so deeply. This part of her post struck a chord with me.

"I couldn't feel God in the midst of all of the confusion and fear and pain, but I trusted that he was there. It was a tenuous, desperate trust, but it was trust all the same." 

That sentence, summed me up. How, over two and a half years later the cycle of anger at God vs. desperate trust in God is always there. Sometimes I'm in better places than others. 

My daughter's death pulled me back to God. After almost seven years of almost completely ignoring that part of my life it took my heart breaking, my daughter dying to go back to church. Most people don't understand this; they don't understand why I would run to a God that put time on my daughter's life before it had even really begun.

To be honest, I didn't completely understand it either, sometimes I still don't understand it when I'm in the midst of another cycle of anger and hurt. 

My trust is the so very desperate kind, I'm not very good at faith. An exemplar Christian I am not. Grief makes believing, makes trusting conflicting. I'm reminded of this post recently at Still Standing magazine, when so much of it rung true. Perfectly summarising the cycles of anger.

"Easy for you to say trust God, if you've never felt betrayed by the heavens themselves."

A glimmer of trust pulled me back to church, to a God I was so angry with, felt betrayed by, because I believed Anabelle to be in heaven. A faint, desperate glimmer of trust almost drowned out by pain, that I either believed that, clung onto that, or had nothing. So I continue to desperately trust, that although she can never be here, I'll hold her there. That God has promised me that. 

There is so much I still need to learn to accept, to trust, to not fear, to beat anxiety, to live, to survive, for my raw edges to keep softening, to experience healing, even if my heart and spirit never fully can. Alexander is my key, my beautiful boy, my blessing and my comfort, even if I never understand why I had to be one who mourned.  

But for now, that is enough, a belief in heaven and believing my pain, hurt, grief will slowly be turned into something beautiful, that there is a purpose, that God is there. Desperate trust.

"Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted." Matthew 5 v. 4. 
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After Anabelle - Raising Rainbows. I'm Caz, Mummy to beautiful angel Belle and my wonderful rainbow boys, Xander, Zachy and Luc. Wife to Jon. Twitter @cazem Instagram @cazzyem
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