Growing up, I was one of the best dressed little girls around. My mother made sure of that.
When I was in elementary school, each outfit was picked out the night before (complete with matching hair bow) and every afternoon when Mama picked me up the question was the same, "Did anybody tell you how cute you looked?" I would roll my eyes and say no (although 9 times out of 10 they had), to which she would reply, "Well, they were thinking it."
As I grew older and came to appreciate the power of looking good, my mother went right on making sure that "they were thinking it." Each milestone in my life was marked with the perfect outfit. My friends were in amazement when I was the only person that they knew that still got a "trousseau" when I got married (which was really just a bunch of cute clothes).
When I was pregnant and on bed rest in the hospital, Mama rushed down each week with Old Navy Maternity bags bulging because as she put it, "nobody ever feels better from looking bad." And it was true, I was the cutest girl on the Labor and Delivery ward.
One of the hardest parts for me after Rip was born was how little I got to do for him. Even before he got sick, the nursery changed his diapers and fed him and even when I got to hold him there were so many wires that he never really felt like mine.
When things got bad and we knew we were going to lose him, I'd done very little that made me feel like his Mama. That last day in the NICU, our wonderful nurse gave me the best opportunity. She let me pick out his outfit. I went through bags and bags of clothes at the hospital, making sure to find something comfortable, cute, and just a little trendy. When I held him that day, he finally felt like mine. I knew that I'd done something for him that showed how much I loved him, something only the best mothers did.
After we lost Rip, I still looked like I just had a baby. My swollen chest and pouchy stomach were just a constant painful reminder. Getting dressed and finding something that fit left me sobbing.
The day before the funeral, my mom and sister took a very sedated me, put me in a dressing room and went to work finding the most figure flattering dress TJ Maxx had to offer, complete with sky high heels.
To say I was dreading the day of the funeral would be an understatement. Somehow I got up and in to my new dress. I made it through the service and to the receiving line. The weather was perfect and as I stood there with the sun on my face, I felt peaceful. I felt like myself, even a little pretty.
I know that clothes and outfits are just materials and all of this may sound a little petty. But behind each outfit is the security of my mother's love. That is what she taught me, and what I tried to give to Rip on that last day. Because I know that is what a good mama does.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Why I Wish Life Was Like A Cooking Show
I spent the morning lying on the couch while Parke watched the Food Network, and I realized I would really prefer life to be like a cooking show.
The beauty of these shows is that they are generally only allotted about thirty minutes to create something from nothing.
The first part is when everything is raw and not so good. In my case, this would translate to bawling my eyes out 24 hours a day, sitting around in my pajamas, with little or no motivation to do anything (aka this morning).
But then in the blink of an eye, you are at the fifteen minute mark. Here, something raw and not so good has started to simmer, now you are starting to get somewhere. Maybe this means I am up and dressed, tearing up a time or two, but basically holding it together.
And then with or without the BAM! (depending on whether or not you are an Emeril fan), you have the finished product. You have hours of mixing, stirring, and baking, all of which have produced something so much better than you started with...but nobody really seemed to have to do any of the work. It just kind of happened, all in thirty minutes or less.
And that is what I wish would happen, I could just say the magic words and I would be "there" wherever there ends up being...the place where we are healed and better than we were to begin with.
I know that is not an option, I know that even Emeril himself actually has to do all of those hours of hard work to come up with the perfect meal. But it would be really nice if he (and I) didn't.
The beauty of these shows is that they are generally only allotted about thirty minutes to create something from nothing.
The first part is when everything is raw and not so good. In my case, this would translate to bawling my eyes out 24 hours a day, sitting around in my pajamas, with little or no motivation to do anything (aka this morning).
But then in the blink of an eye, you are at the fifteen minute mark. Here, something raw and not so good has started to simmer, now you are starting to get somewhere. Maybe this means I am up and dressed, tearing up a time or two, but basically holding it together.
And then with or without the BAM! (depending on whether or not you are an Emeril fan), you have the finished product. You have hours of mixing, stirring, and baking, all of which have produced something so much better than you started with...but nobody really seemed to have to do any of the work. It just kind of happened, all in thirty minutes or less.
And that is what I wish would happen, I could just say the magic words and I would be "there" wherever there ends up being...the place where we are healed and better than we were to begin with.
I know that is not an option, I know that even Emeril himself actually has to do all of those hours of hard work to come up with the perfect meal. But it would be really nice if he (and I) didn't.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Today Sucked
Today was just a really sucky day. I've pretty much been crying since the minute I woke up. Parke and I got in a stupid fight. We are both just too sad and worn out to be much help to each other. I feel lonely and scared and like this whole situation is pretty much unbearable.
Everyone keeps telling me that this is just going to take time, that one day it will get better and I hate that. I am not a patient person, I don't want to have to go through days and days of miserable. I want to fast forward through this whole awful process, fix it for me and for Parke and for our families.
My basic feeling is that this just was not supposed to happen and for today at least, I don't want anybody to comfort me about how or why it did.
So, bottom line, today sucked.
Everyone keeps telling me that this is just going to take time, that one day it will get better and I hate that. I am not a patient person, I don't want to have to go through days and days of miserable. I want to fast forward through this whole awful process, fix it for me and for Parke and for our families.
My basic feeling is that this just was not supposed to happen and for today at least, I don't want anybody to comfort me about how or why it did.
So, bottom line, today sucked.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Heaven Help Us
As a Christian, I have always been pretty vague. A "yeah, sure I believe we all go to heaven and God, yep he sounds like a good enough guy" kind of Christian. I have had times in my life where I have been closer to God, and I have had times where I felt like I pretty much had it all under control.
Since Rip has been gone, one of the things I have been so surprised by is my desire to read the Bible. At first I just could not figure it out, I was so angry at God for taking my baby, why in the world would I want to read all about Him?
But then it started to make sense. If I truly believed in God, then I truly believe my child is now in Heaven. Not that I have not questioned my faith these past few weeks (I have), but at the end of the day that is what I believe. I believe Rip is in Heaven with God and I, as his mother, need to know as much as possible about where he is and who is taking care of him.
I would never have sent him to daycare without doing plenty of research, or left him with a babysitter without a background check...so why would I not learn everything I can about his new home?
Learning about God and Rip's Heaven is the best way I can continue to be his mama. And thankfully, everything I've read leads me to honestly believe that my baby is well loved and still perfect in every way. And that makes me so happy.
Since Rip has been gone, one of the things I have been so surprised by is my desire to read the Bible. At first I just could not figure it out, I was so angry at God for taking my baby, why in the world would I want to read all about Him?
But then it started to make sense. If I truly believed in God, then I truly believe my child is now in Heaven. Not that I have not questioned my faith these past few weeks (I have), but at the end of the day that is what I believe. I believe Rip is in Heaven with God and I, as his mother, need to know as much as possible about where he is and who is taking care of him.
I would never have sent him to daycare without doing plenty of research, or left him with a babysitter without a background check...so why would I not learn everything I can about his new home?
Learning about God and Rip's Heaven is the best way I can continue to be his mama. And thankfully, everything I've read leads me to honestly believe that my baby is well loved and still perfect in every way. And that makes me so happy.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
The Good Stuff
Today is my third wedding anniversary. Before we had and lost Rip, I was terrified of being happy, or I guess I should say I was terrified of sounding too happy. I was so afraid that God would hear me and realize nothing bad had happened to me yet, and BOOM! happiness gone.
When I was pregnant, I never talked about how excited I was. I did not take fun pictures of myself, I treated the ultrasound pictures like they were expendable. I tried to stay on the down low, hiding out so that nothing bad would happen. But then the worst thing imaginable happened anyway.
Don't get me wrong, I know that what happened to Rip (although I may never understand it), did not happen because I was too happy or not happy enough. It just makes me sad that I was not swinging from the chandeliers, shouting about how excited I was for this baby, because that was how I really felt and I should have shared that feeling with the world.
That same goes for this anniversary. It has been my policy never to act too in love, to be wary of public declarations just in case it were to all go south. These past few weeks (months really), my husband has shown more strength of character than I could ever have imagined. He took care of me in the hospital, he took care of Rip when I could not after my surgery, and he has held me every night since Rip passed away. How could I not love this person? I should want everybody to know how good this man is.
I don't mean to sound like a cheesy "love/live life to the fullest" campaign, but I don't know how else to put it. Life is too short to be afraid. Terrible things happen, but I will try my hardest not to miss out on all of the good and exciting just so those terrible things won't know where I live. That just really isn't how life works.
When I was pregnant, I never talked about how excited I was. I did not take fun pictures of myself, I treated the ultrasound pictures like they were expendable. I tried to stay on the down low, hiding out so that nothing bad would happen. But then the worst thing imaginable happened anyway.
Don't get me wrong, I know that what happened to Rip (although I may never understand it), did not happen because I was too happy or not happy enough. It just makes me sad that I was not swinging from the chandeliers, shouting about how excited I was for this baby, because that was how I really felt and I should have shared that feeling with the world.
That same goes for this anniversary. It has been my policy never to act too in love, to be wary of public declarations just in case it were to all go south. These past few weeks (months really), my husband has shown more strength of character than I could ever have imagined. He took care of me in the hospital, he took care of Rip when I could not after my surgery, and he has held me every night since Rip passed away. How could I not love this person? I should want everybody to know how good this man is.
I don't mean to sound like a cheesy "love/live life to the fullest" campaign, but I don't know how else to put it. Life is too short to be afraid. Terrible things happen, but I will try my hardest not to miss out on all of the good and exciting just so those terrible things won't know where I live. That just really isn't how life works.
Pretty Much Sums It All Up
Here is an email my mother wrote to her friends and colleagues after Rip died, it makes me sad right now but I know one day I will be glad I kept it...
Hey Best Girl in the World,
I haven't sent this to you before because I don't want in any way to make this awful time harder for you. I wrote this originally to send out to my work people, but since that time others have sent it on to church, etc. It has helped me not to have to go over details or ask a lot of questions. You can use parts or none of it, and remember it was sent from my so much less important than yours perspective. I love you so much more than you can imagine and want you to do whatever possible to get through this as easily as you can so if it would help, send something and if not, don't.
I'll talk to you later,
LoveMama
Dear friends,
As most of you know by now, my family lost our much beloved and anticipated baby last week when he contracted a bacterial infection one week after his birth on November 11. While we are heartbroken at the loss, so many of you have been a part of this journey with me and I wanted to share our story with you here in the way that real friends do.
Anne is my oldest daughter, and her pregnancy was a hard one, including hospital bed rest for 5 weeks before the planned date for delivery. She passed that time with a happy determination to do whatever it took to get her son here. Many of you sent gifts to help entertain her and I spent many hours there describing you all to her and telling her so many stories of our working together that she felt like she knew you. It was a happy time for us even in the middle of a stressful situation. When the big day was finally here, we went down to Charleston on Wednesday, Nov 10 to be there when the baby was born on Nov 11 at 7:30 am.
We literally jumped up and down outside of the operating room when we heard his first cries. He was perfect- a combination of both his mother and father, although of course I will tell you here that I did think he looked more like "our" side.
We celebrated his arrival in the same way most families do, with lots of tears and joy and photos to record it all. I left on Saturday to come back to Greenville, planning to return later in the next week when they both came home from the hospital to stay.
On Sunday afternoon I got a call from Anne that the baby had begun to run a fever and would be transferred from the current hospital to MUSC which has state of the art facililities for premature babies. I immediately headed back to join them and will never regret making the decision to be there.
Leaving Greenville, we could have never guessed how the week would unfold, or that by Saturday we would be attending a service honoring the short life of John Robert Harris. ( As the minister said at the church that day, those who knew him well called him "Rip".)
Like all of you, I have devoted the majority of my life protecting my children from harm, and I am nothing if not a woman who likes to be in control of every situation. So when we were told the diagnosis and that we would soon be given our baby so that Anne and Parke could hold him while he took his last breath, it was unbearable to think of seeing my child suffer in this way. Part of my writing this down for you is to tell you this: When I faced the darkest hour and had no sufficient strength of my own, God was there. He held us when nothing else could. I know it as sure as I am writing this. His Grace was sufficient, just like we've always heard. Never doubt that it is true.
As for me and my family, we are heartbroken but determined to heal and life will go on-- just as it should.
People have assured me that crying is a necessary thing in these situations, but I have to say I think it is highly overrated. I have cried so many tears sometimes I think I will get dehydrated, and I am pretty sure some people have begun to avoid walking my way for fear of setting off another round of tears.This grieving stuff is hard work, but every day gets a little better and there is so much hope in the future.
So many people keep asking how they can help and I have really tried to pay attention to the things that do, mainly so that I can help someone else one day.This week has been a horrible nightmare in many ways, but I wouldn't have missed a minute of being there. When I think of the sweetest moments, it is the doctor who cried when he gave us the diagnosis, the man in the hospital waiting room who gave me his blanket in the middle of the night, the friends and family who came to be with us at a time when it would have been so much more comfortable for them to stay away.
So what can you do for me?You can be the one who sheds a tear for someone else's pain. You can be the one who gives up your own comfort to comfort a stranger. People need other people-- you can be the one to go along side them even when you don't know what to say.
When I think of our baby, it will always be with love at the perfect gift he was, and awe at how one tiny 5lb 4oz little boy changed my life forever in only one week. I know God has a purpose for each life, and some people live for a long time without ever making a difference to others. It is my hope that maybe in your journey with me as friends Rip Harris can make a difference in yours.
Thank you so very much for your friendship, kindness, prayers and support. They all mean more than you can ever imagine.
Sincerely,
Kim
Hey Best Girl in the World,
I haven't sent this to you before because I don't want in any way to make this awful time harder for you. I wrote this originally to send out to my work people, but since that time others have sent it on to church, etc. It has helped me not to have to go over details or ask a lot of questions. You can use parts or none of it, and remember it was sent from my so much less important than yours perspective. I love you so much more than you can imagine and want you to do whatever possible to get through this as easily as you can so if it would help, send something and if not, don't.
I'll talk to you later,
LoveMama
Dear friends,
As most of you know by now, my family lost our much beloved and anticipated baby last week when he contracted a bacterial infection one week after his birth on November 11. While we are heartbroken at the loss, so many of you have been a part of this journey with me and I wanted to share our story with you here in the way that real friends do.
Anne is my oldest daughter, and her pregnancy was a hard one, including hospital bed rest for 5 weeks before the planned date for delivery. She passed that time with a happy determination to do whatever it took to get her son here. Many of you sent gifts to help entertain her and I spent many hours there describing you all to her and telling her so many stories of our working together that she felt like she knew you. It was a happy time for us even in the middle of a stressful situation. When the big day was finally here, we went down to Charleston on Wednesday, Nov 10 to be there when the baby was born on Nov 11 at 7:30 am.
We literally jumped up and down outside of the operating room when we heard his first cries. He was perfect- a combination of both his mother and father, although of course I will tell you here that I did think he looked more like "our" side.
We celebrated his arrival in the same way most families do, with lots of tears and joy and photos to record it all. I left on Saturday to come back to Greenville, planning to return later in the next week when they both came home from the hospital to stay.
On Sunday afternoon I got a call from Anne that the baby had begun to run a fever and would be transferred from the current hospital to MUSC which has state of the art facililities for premature babies. I immediately headed back to join them and will never regret making the decision to be there.
Leaving Greenville, we could have never guessed how the week would unfold, or that by Saturday we would be attending a service honoring the short life of John Robert Harris. ( As the minister said at the church that day, those who knew him well called him "Rip".)
Like all of you, I have devoted the majority of my life protecting my children from harm, and I am nothing if not a woman who likes to be in control of every situation. So when we were told the diagnosis and that we would soon be given our baby so that Anne and Parke could hold him while he took his last breath, it was unbearable to think of seeing my child suffer in this way. Part of my writing this down for you is to tell you this: When I faced the darkest hour and had no sufficient strength of my own, God was there. He held us when nothing else could. I know it as sure as I am writing this. His Grace was sufficient, just like we've always heard. Never doubt that it is true.
As for me and my family, we are heartbroken but determined to heal and life will go on-- just as it should.
People have assured me that crying is a necessary thing in these situations, but I have to say I think it is highly overrated. I have cried so many tears sometimes I think I will get dehydrated, and I am pretty sure some people have begun to avoid walking my way for fear of setting off another round of tears.This grieving stuff is hard work, but every day gets a little better and there is so much hope in the future.
So many people keep asking how they can help and I have really tried to pay attention to the things that do, mainly so that I can help someone else one day.This week has been a horrible nightmare in many ways, but I wouldn't have missed a minute of being there. When I think of the sweetest moments, it is the doctor who cried when he gave us the diagnosis, the man in the hospital waiting room who gave me his blanket in the middle of the night, the friends and family who came to be with us at a time when it would have been so much more comfortable for them to stay away.
So what can you do for me?You can be the one who sheds a tear for someone else's pain. You can be the one who gives up your own comfort to comfort a stranger. People need other people-- you can be the one to go along side them even when you don't know what to say.
When I think of our baby, it will always be with love at the perfect gift he was, and awe at how one tiny 5lb 4oz little boy changed my life forever in only one week. I know God has a purpose for each life, and some people live for a long time without ever making a difference to others. It is my hope that maybe in your journey with me as friends Rip Harris can make a difference in yours.
Thank you so very much for your friendship, kindness, prayers and support. They all mean more than you can ever imagine.
Sincerely,
Kim
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
She's Come Undone
I swear EVERYBODY I run in to has a baby. Particularly if I happen to be in Target. Every single person in Target has a child, and most of them are acting like really crummy parents. They yell, or worse ignore, their kids and all I want to do is grab them by the collar and scream in their faces " DO YOU KNOW HOW LUCKY YOU ARE TO HAVE THIS KID??? ACT LIKE IT! NOW HAVE A NICE DAY AND ENJOY YOUR NACHOS AND CHERRY SLURPEE."
But I don't, instead I pray to God that I have taken enough Ativan to get me out of the store without having a major meltdown.
My latest thing is just this crippling fear that I won't be able to have any more children. That Rip was it and I did not even realize it. I feel like if someone had told me before Rip that I could not have kids, I am sure I would have put on quite a show of moaning and groaning. But I would not have really known what I was missing. Now I know. I know the moment that baby cries your life changes forever. I know that my husband is the best father in the world. I know the sheer terror and absolute love of being a mother. And now I don't think I can live without that.
If I am lucky enough to do this again, I won't take one minute of it for granted.
But I don't, instead I pray to God that I have taken enough Ativan to get me out of the store without having a major meltdown.
My latest thing is just this crippling fear that I won't be able to have any more children. That Rip was it and I did not even realize it. I feel like if someone had told me before Rip that I could not have kids, I am sure I would have put on quite a show of moaning and groaning. But I would not have really known what I was missing. Now I know. I know the moment that baby cries your life changes forever. I know that my husband is the best father in the world. I know the sheer terror and absolute love of being a mother. And now I don't think I can live without that.
If I am lucky enough to do this again, I won't take one minute of it for granted.
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