Tuesday, January 13, 2015
Thursday, September 25, 2014
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Change of Location
Hello to all my readers!
Thank you for your visits, shares, likes, emails, love, and encouragement. Due to a high volume I have decided to expand my work! I'm am pleased to present my new website, www.dearcameron.com , to you all!
I have carried over the most popular posts and publish a new letter every Tuesday. Dear Cameron brings me much joy and comfort. Our story has touch the hearts of many and is on the mouths of most. I love sharing our story with you!
I will no longer be using Blogger to publish my work, but I will continue to leave it up and running as a reminder where it all began. Please follow me to my new website www.dearcameron.com .
Thank you all!
Domonique
Thank you for your visits, shares, likes, emails, love, and encouragement. Due to a high volume I have decided to expand my work! I'm am pleased to present my new website, www.dearcameron.com , to you all!
I have carried over the most popular posts and publish a new letter every Tuesday. Dear Cameron brings me much joy and comfort. Our story has touch the hearts of many and is on the mouths of most. I love sharing our story with you!
I will no longer be using Blogger to publish my work, but I will continue to leave it up and running as a reminder where it all began. Please follow me to my new website www.dearcameron.com .
Thank you all!
Domonique
Thursday, November 7, 2013
100 Days of Blogging: Grieve Out Loud
Dear Cameron,
Happy 100 days!
We have shared our story, experiences, thoughts and encouragement for the past 100 days! We have been brave enough to keep going and keep sharing all while ignoring what they think along the way.
We have endured 100 days of discouragement and 100 days of encouragement.We have endured the terrible insensitive things people have said to "help" us.
Thanks.
As raw, painful, and rude as grief can be, she has this way of making me feel human.
If I have learned one thing over the past 100 days about about grief, it is this.
Through all the pain, the hurt, the moments;
through the feelings of wanting to give up and turn my back on everything and everyone, I have learned this from grief:
These 100 days have been my platform, my mark; my story. Touching the lives and sharing my story; your story Cam, with the world, is a part of the reason I have not given up. Shedding light, building my testimony, and breaking the silence is a what grief has encouraged me to keep doing. The past 100 days can attest for this.
So, on this 100th day of blogging, I will leave you with this.
Remember me
stumbling, crying, screaming.
Remember me
ranting, praying, begging.
Remember me now
Still Breathing.
Still Living.
Still Loving.
Still Standing.
Remember me
and never count me out.
Remember me on November 7th
Domonique.
A mother. Still lifted on her platform 100 days and counting.
I still don't know who I am, but grief has showed me who I am not.
I love you so much honey. More than I can ever describe.
Love Always,
Mommy
Happy 100 days!
We have shared our story, experiences, thoughts and encouragement for the past 100 days! We have been brave enough to keep going and keep sharing all while ignoring what they think along the way.
We have endured 100 days of discouragement and 100 days of encouragement.We have endured the terrible insensitive things people have said to "help" us.
Thanks.
As raw, painful, and rude as grief can be, she has this way of making me feel human.
If I have learned one thing over the past 100 days about about grief, it is this.
Through all the pain, the hurt, the moments;
through the feelings of wanting to give up and turn my back on everything and everyone, I have learned this from grief:
Although dark and raw and numb sometimes, grief can be beautiful. Everyday she teaches me about the person I can be; the person I truly am. She has lifted a cloak I have been hiding under for 22 years and now Domonique is blossoming. Domonique is being revealed. She, along with perseverance and God, has strengthened my faith. She has showed me it's okay to cry, scream, and weep because I am human; because I am a mother.
These 100 days have been my platform, my mark; my story. Touching the lives and sharing my story; your story Cam, with the world, is a part of the reason I have not given up. Shedding light, building my testimony, and breaking the silence is a what grief has encouraged me to keep doing. The past 100 days can attest for this.
So, on this 100th day of blogging, I will leave you with this.
Remember me
stumbling, crying, screaming.
Remember me
ranting, praying, begging.
Remember me now
Still Breathing.
Still Living.
Still Loving.
Still Standing.
Remember me
and never count me out.
Remember me on November 7th
Domonique.
A mother. Still lifted on her platform 100 days and counting.
I still don't know who I am, but grief has showed me who I am not.
I love you so much honey. More than I can ever describe.
Love Always,
Mommy
Saturday, November 2, 2013
Tragedy Turned to Triumph
Dear Cameron,
I love you honey and I miss you terribly.
Today I participated in another event in your honor- March for Babies. I created a team, Walking for Cameron, that included Auntie, Gigi, and myself and set a goal for us to raise $200.00 for March of Dimes in your name. However, in less than thirty day, we raised more than double our goal! The support from family, friends, coworkers and complete strangers who were touched by your story has been unbelievable. That is proof alone that your story, Cameron, is being heard and together we are breaking the silence.
After working a long, and late, eight hour shift at the restaurant, I was left with little time to get a good night's sleep. We left for the walk this morning at 5:30 am. The morning's darkness is one I am not familiar with. As we prepared my car and hit the road in route for a three hour and forty minute drive to Chesapeake, Virginia, I couldn't help but to think I wouldn't even be giving back the way I have been if you had been here. Questions such as:
I fell asleep and woke up again constantly during the drive. One time I woke up just as the sun was peaking through the rain clouds and thought to myself how God creates such beauty even in the middle of a storm.
When we finally arrived at the event, I was surprised at how many people had come. Some families wore their custom t-shirts supporting their miracle baby; their little NICU graduate. Other families wore t-shirts similar to mine; in memory of their little love. I remember reading the words "Until we Meet Again" on the back of one bereaved mother's custom shirt as she pulled her son in a plastic wagon. My eyes watered a little.
Once the two and a half mile walk began, I instantly thought of you Cam. I was brought back to that raw day, June 7, 2013, when I was told those heart breaking words no mother wants to hear
Shortly after, another thought, encouraging this time, came to my mind.
So on today, as I, again, honored your wonderful memory and walked in the honor of other babies, with other families and my own, I was also reminded of this:
First, a lot of courage and perseverance is associated in participating in events such as March for Babies. Secondly, you are so loved baby. The individuals who donated to team Walking for Cameron, find you, important enough to support this cause. Next, every step counts, but the hurt, passion and love is enough fuel to continue to take the steps needed to make a difference and to keep going. And lastly, "the way tragedy has turned to triumph is only a transition that can be orchestrated by God alone."
Every baby deserves the chance to live a long healthy life.
I love you Cam.
Love Always,
Mommy
I love you honey and I miss you terribly.
Today I participated in another event in your honor- March for Babies. I created a team, Walking for Cameron, that included Auntie, Gigi, and myself and set a goal for us to raise $200.00 for March of Dimes in your name. However, in less than thirty day, we raised more than double our goal! The support from family, friends, coworkers and complete strangers who were touched by your story has been unbelievable. That is proof alone that your story, Cameron, is being heard and together we are breaking the silence.
After working a long, and late, eight hour shift at the restaurant, I was left with little time to get a good night's sleep. We left for the walk this morning at 5:30 am. The morning's darkness is one I am not familiar with. As we prepared my car and hit the road in route for a three hour and forty minute drive to Chesapeake, Virginia, I couldn't help but to think I wouldn't even be giving back the way I have been if you had been here. Questions such as:
Would I have made donations to March for Babies?
Will I continue to participate in events similar to March for Babies or is this just a phase?played over and over again exhausted mind.
I fell asleep and woke up again constantly during the drive. One time I woke up just as the sun was peaking through the rain clouds and thought to myself how God creates such beauty even in the middle of a storm.
When we finally arrived at the event, I was surprised at how many people had come. Some families wore their custom t-shirts supporting their miracle baby; their little NICU graduate. Other families wore t-shirts similar to mine; in memory of their little love. I remember reading the words "Until we Meet Again" on the back of one bereaved mother's custom shirt as she pulled her son in a plastic wagon. My eyes watered a little.
Once the two and a half mile walk began, I instantly thought of you Cam. I was brought back to that raw day, June 7, 2013, when I was told those heart breaking words no mother wants to hear
"...I'm so sorry..."I glanced around at the sponsors and volunteers and wondered about their story- their testimony. I wondered what brought them to this event. Who were they walking for?
Shortly after, another thought, encouraging this time, came to my mind.
Everyone here, every soul walking in front and behind me, is walking for a purpose. They may share a story similar to mine, or one not so similar, however, they are all here for one reason and that reason is for someone. Someone they know, love or care about is important enough for the sponsors and volunteers to take time from their day to spend walking these miles. They are walking in someone's name; in someone's honor.To see everyone of all ages and nationalities come together for one purpose was beautiful, but most importantly, showed that there are people out there who are passionate through anger, grief, triumph or whatever it is, to the point they want to do something about it and make a difference.
So on today, as I, again, honored your wonderful memory and walked in the honor of other babies, with other families and my own, I was also reminded of this:
First, a lot of courage and perseverance is associated in participating in events such as March for Babies. Secondly, you are so loved baby. The individuals who donated to team Walking for Cameron, find you, important enough to support this cause. Next, every step counts, but the hurt, passion and love is enough fuel to continue to take the steps needed to make a difference and to keep going. And lastly, "the way tragedy has turned to triumph is only a transition that can be orchestrated by God alone."
Every baby deserves the chance to live a long healthy life.I love you Cam.
Love Always,
Mommy
Friday, October 25, 2013
My Truth About Grief: Stress
Dear Cameron,
I love you.
There is one word that can properly describe the feeling that has consumed every ounce of my body and bits of my soul; stress.
There are moments when I find my self on the edge, getting ready to dive in a sea of tears with pain, hurt, and grief trailing behind me. As soon as I'm ready to take that leap; that long and terrifying dive to spend a moment, or two, swimming around in my own personal sea of tears, something anchors me to the ledge and forces me to turn my attention away from my dive; from my healing.
I want to get it out, but people and their demands won't allow me to. People (claim) they need me. But can't I be needed later?
People want to talk to me about "something".
But can that something wait until tomorrow.
Can I have MY day? Can I, just for a moment, catch my breath?
Over the past few weeks, I have discovered new thing related to grief and that is:
1. I'm Not Only Grieving You Cam, But Also the "New Normal"
I'm, reluctantly, learning what the new normal is. How to live it. How to embrace it.
2. I'm Grieving the Loss of Friendships
I'm not the same person I was before you and I never will be. There are friendships I have had to put some distance between for personal reasons. The ones who said
3. I'm Grieving the Feeling of Emptiness
Empty arms, hearts, womb and rooms echoing with a thunderous silence.
I guess what I'm trying to say is grief comes in many forms. I have used many tactics such as pounds of make-up, a heavy college work load, and the need to help, listen, and please others, to mask myself from her line of vision. I have said "I'm okay" when I really wasn't. I have carried my own cross as well as the cross of others. I have unconsciously shoved the feelings, my soul has been dying to release, for so long that it has caused a stress that feels like "day one" of this journey.
Not anymore. I refuse to allow myself to ever do that again. My feelings, or moments, will no longer come second to anything. I will never bottle it up the way I have been. Crying, along with other things, helps me. When I'm ready to take my courageous and much needed leap into my sea of tears, I will.
Love Always,
Mommy
I love you.
There is one word that can properly describe the feeling that has consumed every ounce of my body and bits of my soul; stress.
There are moments when I find my self on the edge, getting ready to dive in a sea of tears with pain, hurt, and grief trailing behind me. As soon as I'm ready to take that leap; that long and terrifying dive to spend a moment, or two, swimming around in my own personal sea of tears, something anchors me to the ledge and forces me to turn my attention away from my dive; from my healing.I want to get it out, but people and their demands won't allow me to. People (claim) they need me. But can't I be needed later?
People want to talk to me about "something".
But can that something wait until tomorrow.
Can I have MY day? Can I, just for a moment, catch my breath?
Over the past few weeks, I have discovered new thing related to grief and that is:
1. I'm Not Only Grieving You Cam, But Also the "New Normal"
I'm, reluctantly, learning what the new normal is. How to live it. How to embrace it.
2. I'm Grieving the Loss of Friendships
I'm not the same person I was before you and I never will be. There are friendships I have had to put some distance between for personal reasons. The ones who said
"I'm here when you need me."Now have office hours.
3. I'm Grieving the Feeling of Emptiness
Empty arms, hearts, womb and rooms echoing with a thunderous silence.
I guess what I'm trying to say is grief comes in many forms. I have used many tactics such as pounds of make-up, a heavy college work load, and the need to help, listen, and please others, to mask myself from her line of vision. I have said "I'm okay" when I really wasn't. I have carried my own cross as well as the cross of others. I have unconsciously shoved the feelings, my soul has been dying to release, for so long that it has caused a stress that feels like "day one" of this journey.
Not anymore. I refuse to allow myself to ever do that again. My feelings, or moments, will no longer come second to anything. I will never bottle it up the way I have been. Crying, along with other things, helps me. When I'm ready to take my courageous and much needed leap into my sea of tears, I will.
Love Always,
Mommy
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
October 15th: A Day of Rememberance
Dear Cameron,
I love you.
On this day, I not only honor you, Cameron, but I first solute and honor all the parents who have had to bury their child(ren). On this day, October 15, 2013, I remember the families who had to give their babies their first and last kiss. I honor the parents who, so bravely, walked out of hospitals, around the world, lonely, broken and empty handed. I solute the parents who keep their child(ren)'s memory alive; the parents who courageously share their story. I honor the parents who live life, laugh, love and grieve; I honor them.
Today, Deborah, the mother of baby girl Chandler born sleeping, and I released balloons in the honor of you both. It was so much fun! While today is indeed a day of remembrance, we decided to use this day as a joyous celebration. We had 12 balloons: four pinks, four whites, and four blues. Inside each balloon was a small led light that made the balloon glow.
After we said "I love you" and "I miss you", we let go of our balloons and watched as they gracefully floated in the air. The sky was a dark bluish mixed with purple. The balloons looked like little stars dancing across the sky. The cool light breeze helped them as if directing them towards the two of you. Three landed in a nearby tree, but loosened themselves free and continued with the others. That was funny.
It reminded me of blowing a puffy dandelion and watching the seeds float in the same direction on a nice summer day, but never seeing where they ended up landing.
We watched the sky in awe keeping our eyes on the bright balloons until they were out of sight; disappearing behind the clouds.
My eyes watered a little bit, watching the balloons and thinking of you. This time they weren't tears of sadness and sorrow, but tears of joy. I smiled a lot thinking of how proud you are of me and how courageous I have been. Doing this, sending you the balloons, felt like you were so close. It felt like I could finally reach you for the first time in four months.
I like that feeling.
I finally pressed the pause button on life and caught my breath.
Thank You Lord for giving me rest in the middle of chaos.
So on this day sweetheart dedicated to remembering you, Chandler and other babies, I also remember and honor their families. I pray that God continues to give them the same peace He has given Deborah and I. I pray that families look to the sky and in the midst of darkness, they see a sprinkle, glimmer, or whatever they want to call it, of light. I like to think of that little light as hope, soaring across the sky to someone who needs it.
My sweet Cameron, mommy loves you so much!
I will always remember you baby.
Love Always,
Mommy
I love you.
In October 1988, President Ronald Reagan proclaimed October as National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. Today is October 15, 2013. Today is considered a day of remembrance for babies who were loss during pregnancy and infant death. Today is a day to honor and remember the children who have left this earth to be with the Lord.
 |
| Chandler and Cameron's Balloon |
On this day, I not only honor you, Cameron, but I first solute and honor all the parents who have had to bury their child(ren). On this day, October 15, 2013, I remember the families who had to give their babies their first and last kiss. I honor the parents who, so bravely, walked out of hospitals, around the world, lonely, broken and empty handed. I solute the parents who keep their child(ren)'s memory alive; the parents who courageously share their story. I honor the parents who live life, laugh, love and grieve; I honor them.
Today, Deborah, the mother of baby girl Chandler born sleeping, and I released balloons in the honor of you both. It was so much fun! While today is indeed a day of remembrance, we decided to use this day as a joyous celebration. We had 12 balloons: four pinks, four whites, and four blues. Inside each balloon was a small led light that made the balloon glow.
After we said "I love you" and "I miss you", we let go of our balloons and watched as they gracefully floated in the air. The sky was a dark bluish mixed with purple. The balloons looked like little stars dancing across the sky. The cool light breeze helped them as if directing them towards the two of you. Three landed in a nearby tree, but loosened themselves free and continued with the others. That was funny.It reminded me of blowing a puffy dandelion and watching the seeds float in the same direction on a nice summer day, but never seeing where they ended up landing.
We watched the sky in awe keeping our eyes on the bright balloons until they were out of sight; disappearing behind the clouds.
 |
| Once we released the balloons. |
I like that feeling.
I finally pressed the pause button on life and caught my breath.
Thank You Lord for giving me rest in the middle of chaos.
So on this day sweetheart dedicated to remembering you, Chandler and other babies, I also remember and honor their families. I pray that God continues to give them the same peace He has given Deborah and I. I pray that families look to the sky and in the midst of darkness, they see a sprinkle, glimmer, or whatever they want to call it, of light. I like to think of that little light as hope, soaring across the sky to someone who needs it.
My sweet Cameron, mommy loves you so much!
I will always remember you baby.
Love Always,
Mommy
Sunday, October 6, 2013
March for Babies: Walking for Cameron
Hello everyone-
I want to take a moment and thank all of you around the globe for reading the letters to my son Cameron. I started this blog as a way to keep my son's memory alive as I travel down the path of grief. I love all the support I have received over these past four months. I hope these letters speak truth and provide encouragement to all of my readers who have and have not experienced the heart of a bereaved parent! Please stay encouraged!
Continuing, my family and I are participating in the March of Dimes March for Babies. Every year thousands of babies are born too soon placing them in NICU. While some graduate by gaining the weight, eating and breathing on their own, and controlling their body temperature, some babies, unfortunately, do not. March of Dimes provides research towards better and more up to date technology to help keep these children alive as well as programs for pregnant women to help them have healthy full-term babies. The March for Babies is a way to remember babies who graduated from NICU, those still fighting in NICU and those who have sadly lost the battle.
We, my family and I, are Cameron's Crew and, to continue keeping his memory alive, we're walking in his name, baby Chandler's name and sweet baby Jaiden's name. These are all babies gone before they they took their first breaths. We are also walking for baby London. She is a sweet baby girl who will be entering the world preterm when she reaches 34 weeks.
Please donate to my page and help me reach my goal for March of Dime March for Babies. All the proceeds go directly to March of Dimes to help better their research and funding for their programs. The website is secure and I do not get any of the money. Any amount is appreciated.
On be half of angels Cameron, Chandler, and Jaiden, and their families, we really appreciate your donation towards March of Dimes March for Babies!
You may visit the website directly by clicking here!
If that does not work, the direct link is www.marchforbabies.org/cameron0608 .
Thank you.
Domonique
Friday, October 4, 2013
Cameron's Symphony
Dear Cameron,
I love you so much honey.
I remember this day. It was when you were much younger. I think about 16 or 17 weeks.
It was comforting hearing your heartbeat and feeling you squirm around after I got off work.
It reminded me of a beautiful symphony that only the few are able to participate in. The rhythm of my blood pumping through to your little veins and baby organs was a soothing indication of life.
It was such a blessing to be a part of something so uncontrollable.
*this is a recording of my son's actual heartbeat recorded by me, Domonique, using a home doppler and microphone. recording took place on 4/4/13 at 2:42 am*
Listening to your heartbeat still brings me the same comfort now as it did then.
I love it.
I love you baby.
Love Always,
Mommy
I love you so much honey.
I remember this day. It was when you were much younger. I think about 16 or 17 weeks.
It was comforting hearing your heartbeat and feeling you squirm around after I got off work.
It reminded me of a beautiful symphony that only the few are able to participate in. The rhythm of my blood pumping through to your little veins and baby organs was a soothing indication of life.
It was such a blessing to be a part of something so uncontrollable.
*this is a recording of my son's actual heartbeat recorded by me, Domonique, using a home doppler and microphone. recording took place on 4/4/13 at 2:42 am*
Listening to your heartbeat still brings me the same comfort now as it did then.
I love it.
I love you baby.
Love Always,
Mommy
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
Dear God,
Dear God,
I miss my son so much.
My first instinct is to ask a bunch of questions. The main one:
Dear God, You have my attention.
God, thank You for being with me every step of the way. From January 17, 2013, the moment I found out, until today; now. For tomorrow and the day after, the months and years after that, thank You Lord. For grabbing me by the hand and preparing me for what was about to come. For the warnings, for the preparations. Thank You for directing me to the decisions you helped me make when I had no clue, thank You.
Thank You for wisdom.
For opening my ears to hear Your voice and listen to Your word, thank You Lord. For brightening my eyes and widening my vision to follow your word. Thank You. For giving me a heart to receive and let someone, Cameron, in, thank You so much Lord.
Thank You for using Cameron as a way for me to get closer to You.
Thank You Lord for being with me that day; those days. Thank You for Your grace, mercy, love and protection in the room on that raw day. Thank You for loving me, when, on June 7, 2013, I stopped loving You. For laboring nearly 25 hours then giving me the strength to push my baby, my son, Cameron, from my unmedicated body. Lord thank You for no complications, no defects, no accidents. Thank You for allowing me to see my child at peace. Thank You for all 17 hours I had to be with him. For carving my beautiful Cameron in Your image. Thank You Lord that my son is in no more pain, that he is no longer suffering, that he is with you! Thank you for giving me the power to leave the hospital empty handed, hurt, broken and afraid.
Thank You for strength.
For removing the numbest I held in my heart; for giving me bravery when I didn't want to be brave. For giving me the will to get out of bed day after day after day Lord thank You. For not allowing me to sink into a deep depression; for comforting me every night I cried myself to sleep. Thank You Lord for giving me rest and releasing the tension that often caused me to be restless.
Thank You for comfort.
For my friends and family who never stopped praying for me. For the hugs and kisses from strangers and nonstrangers. For a loving church family who interceeded for me and my blood family. Thank you. For the support and love from my coworkers. For blessing me with such an awesome mother who sacrifices so much so that Cameron and I could have. Thank You Lord.
Thank You for Family.
Thank You for wiping every tear. For guiding my every step. Thank You for giving me a reason to live. Thank You Lord God for getting me this far; for getting me over the many road blocks I have encountered. Thank You for grabbing me by the hand; for reminding me that I'm never alone. Thank You for maturing my patience and maturing my faith. I trust you. Thank You for building and molding me over the pass 4 months into the complete woman You intend for me to become. Thank You for saving me. Thank You for Your purpose.
Thank you for making me a mother.
To say embarking on this path is easy would be a lie. This is hard. This is the toughest trial of my life, but I'm so glad that I know You...and I have a lot to thank You for.
شكرا لك, Merci, BENIGNE FACIS, Спасибо, Obrigado, salamat, Danke,
ありがとうございました, Tack, ¡gracias, Thank You
Dear God, I'm listening.
Love,
Domonique
I miss my son so much.
My first instinct is to ask a bunch of questions. The main one:
Why not me; why not my life instead of Cameron's?Lord, you know I would have gladly given up my life in the place of my son. But this letter isn't about that...
Dear God, You have my attention.
God, thank You for being with me every step of the way. From January 17, 2013, the moment I found out, until today; now. For tomorrow and the day after, the months and years after that, thank You Lord. For grabbing me by the hand and preparing me for what was about to come. For the warnings, for the preparations. Thank You for directing me to the decisions you helped me make when I had no clue, thank You.
Thank You for wisdom.
For opening my ears to hear Your voice and listen to Your word, thank You Lord. For brightening my eyes and widening my vision to follow your word. Thank You. For giving me a heart to receive and let someone, Cameron, in, thank You so much Lord.
Thank You for using Cameron as a way for me to get closer to You.
Thank You Lord for being with me that day; those days. Thank You for Your grace, mercy, love and protection in the room on that raw day. Thank You for loving me, when, on June 7, 2013, I stopped loving You. For laboring nearly 25 hours then giving me the strength to push my baby, my son, Cameron, from my unmedicated body. Lord thank You for no complications, no defects, no accidents. Thank You for allowing me to see my child at peace. Thank You for all 17 hours I had to be with him. For carving my beautiful Cameron in Your image. Thank You Lord that my son is in no more pain, that he is no longer suffering, that he is with you! Thank you for giving me the power to leave the hospital empty handed, hurt, broken and afraid.
Thank You for strength.
For removing the numbest I held in my heart; for giving me bravery when I didn't want to be brave. For giving me the will to get out of bed day after day after day Lord thank You. For not allowing me to sink into a deep depression; for comforting me every night I cried myself to sleep. Thank You Lord for giving me rest and releasing the tension that often caused me to be restless.
Thank You for comfort.
For my friends and family who never stopped praying for me. For the hugs and kisses from strangers and nonstrangers. For a loving church family who interceeded for me and my blood family. Thank you. For the support and love from my coworkers. For blessing me with such an awesome mother who sacrifices so much so that Cameron and I could have. Thank You Lord.
Thank You for Family.
Thank You for wiping every tear. For guiding my every step. Thank You for giving me a reason to live. Thank You Lord God for getting me this far; for getting me over the many road blocks I have encountered. Thank You for grabbing me by the hand; for reminding me that I'm never alone. Thank You for maturing my patience and maturing my faith. I trust you. Thank You for building and molding me over the pass 4 months into the complete woman You intend for me to become. Thank You for saving me. Thank You for Your purpose.
Thank you for making me a mother.
To say embarking on this path is easy would be a lie. This is hard. This is the toughest trial of my life, but I'm so glad that I know You...and I have a lot to thank You for.
شكرا لك, Merci, BENIGNE FACIS, Спасибо, Obrigado, salamat, Danke,
ありがとうございました, Tack, ¡gracias, Thank You
Dear God, I'm listening.
Love,
Domonique
Monday, September 30, 2013
Cameron's Possibilities
Dear Cameron,
Hey honey. I love you so much baby. I find myself thinking of you more and more. My imagination about you is so...fun.
I love thinking, wondering, imagining what kind of child you would have been, what you would have done and said. I love thinking about what your likes and dislikes would have been; your character, your personality. Those are things that bring me joy.
In my mind, I can describe you; giving you a look. In my mind, you are perfect.
At only 4 months, I imagine you to be long and chunky, just like the day you were born (I still don't know what to call it). I imagine you sleeping peacefully throughout the night with a small grin across your face; smiling the same smile you had when you were delivered. When you open your itty bitty eyes, that resemble mine almost identically, after taking a long nap, I imagine you looking at me, recognizing who I am and giving me a innocent baby smile. The kind that signals me to pick you up. And I do. I think I would have been a sucker for you; being wrapped around your cute, but long, baby fingers.
In my mind, I can develop your personality. I can make you into whoever I want you to be based on your character before you died. In my mind, I give you personality.
At seven months, I imagine you to be a very lazy baby; only waking up when you're hungry or in the middle of the night wanting to be played with, as you did when I carried you. I imagine you to enjoy long naps during the day, just like me, your mommy, and long trips to the fridge. I imagine you squirming closer to me when we lay down together, just as you would do when I had you. It's funny, as soon as I would lay down, I could feel, and see for that matter, you squirming your way the top of my belly. It was as if you were making your way closer to my heart, closer to that sound that soothed you to sleep night after night before; my heartbeat. I imagine you loving the feeling of comfort and stability.
In my mind, I can imagine who you would be in the future; how mature you would look, how mature you would act. I can imagine how you would carry yourself; imagine the type of person you would be.
18 years have passed and I imagine you to be a young man of character and civility. I imagine you being tall, like your birth father and I. You still have my big bright eyes accompanied with a million dollar smile. I imagine you speaking and thinking more intellectually than your peers. Always looking at situations from a different perspective. I imagine you being a scholar and attending a college or university (I haven't thought about which one, but that doesn't matter). The money I had been saving since you were only 13 weeks will now be paying your tuition for the next four years. I imagine you to understand and appreciate the value of a dollar and not take advantage of my money being spent. In my mind, you are a gentleman. In my mind you are a wonderful man.
Growing up, I imagine you to be a lot like me; strong willed, determined, fun, and lazy all wrapped into one. I imagine you to have a drive to want to succeed, but not losing yourself along the way. Always willing to give people a second, third and fourth chance and seeing the good in someone even when there may not be an ounce left. I picture you being a man of God, setting an example for others and having self respect. These are my favorite imaginations. These are the ones that make me smile.
I love making you into anyone I feel like. I love the endless thoughts I can brew together and even shape you into a person. I think that's one of the best part about grief-the possibilities, even if they're wrong; but who cares. It makes me happy thinking of what you could have become.
I love you Cam...so much honey.
Love Always,
Mommy
Hey honey. I love you so much baby. I find myself thinking of you more and more. My imagination about you is so...fun.
I love thinking, wondering, imagining what kind of child you would have been, what you would have done and said. I love thinking about what your likes and dislikes would have been; your character, your personality. Those are things that bring me joy.
In my mind, I can describe you; giving you a look. In my mind, you are perfect.
At only 4 months, I imagine you to be long and chunky, just like the day you were born (I still don't know what to call it). I imagine you sleeping peacefully throughout the night with a small grin across your face; smiling the same smile you had when you were delivered. When you open your itty bitty eyes, that resemble mine almost identically, after taking a long nap, I imagine you looking at me, recognizing who I am and giving me a innocent baby smile. The kind that signals me to pick you up. And I do. I think I would have been a sucker for you; being wrapped around your cute, but long, baby fingers.
In my mind, I can develop your personality. I can make you into whoever I want you to be based on your character before you died. In my mind, I give you personality.
At seven months, I imagine you to be a very lazy baby; only waking up when you're hungry or in the middle of the night wanting to be played with, as you did when I carried you. I imagine you to enjoy long naps during the day, just like me, your mommy, and long trips to the fridge. I imagine you squirming closer to me when we lay down together, just as you would do when I had you. It's funny, as soon as I would lay down, I could feel, and see for that matter, you squirming your way the top of my belly. It was as if you were making your way closer to my heart, closer to that sound that soothed you to sleep night after night before; my heartbeat. I imagine you loving the feeling of comfort and stability.
In my mind, I can imagine who you would be in the future; how mature you would look, how mature you would act. I can imagine how you would carry yourself; imagine the type of person you would be.
18 years have passed and I imagine you to be a young man of character and civility. I imagine you being tall, like your birth father and I. You still have my big bright eyes accompanied with a million dollar smile. I imagine you speaking and thinking more intellectually than your peers. Always looking at situations from a different perspective. I imagine you being a scholar and attending a college or university (I haven't thought about which one, but that doesn't matter). The money I had been saving since you were only 13 weeks will now be paying your tuition for the next four years. I imagine you to understand and appreciate the value of a dollar and not take advantage of my money being spent. In my mind, you are a gentleman. In my mind you are a wonderful man.
Growing up, I imagine you to be a lot like me; strong willed, determined, fun, and lazy all wrapped into one. I imagine you to have a drive to want to succeed, but not losing yourself along the way. Always willing to give people a second, third and fourth chance and seeing the good in someone even when there may not be an ounce left. I picture you being a man of God, setting an example for others and having self respect. These are my favorite imaginations. These are the ones that make me smile.
I love making you into anyone I feel like. I love the endless thoughts I can brew together and even shape you into a person. I think that's one of the best part about grief-the possibilities, even if they're wrong; but who cares. It makes me happy thinking of what you could have become.
I love you Cam...so much honey.
Love Always,
Mommy
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
A Minute With Cameron
Dear Cameron,
I miss you.
I sometimes imagine God allowing me to see you one last time for a minute or so. I wonder what I would do or even say if I had that chance.
I've pictured myself asking you if you miss me and if you're okay, but then I'm soon reminded how that's a waste of a minute with you.
Then I pictured myself just staring at you wondering if I would recognize your face and you staring back trying to recognize mine. But that's also a waste.
I think if God allowed me a minute, it would begin with a warm embrace. I imagine myself swooping you in my arms with so much love. Everything around us would stand still, or seem as though it was still. Nothing outside of the embrace would matter. I would then look you in your eyes and you stare back at mine smiling that beautiful smile I imagined you having. It is an innocent smile filled with love. The kind of smile you don't need to say much after because the smile is understood...if that makes sense. I then picture myself kissing your forehead; the same way I did the day you were born and the same way I did just before placing you into your bassinet the nurses used to peacefully exit with you. The only difference is that this time there will be no tears, no screaming, and no falling to the floor begging them to take me instead. I lastly picture myself whispering
I love you so much Cameron. I can't wait to see you again.
Love Always,
Mommy
I miss you.
I sometimes imagine God allowing me to see you one last time for a minute or so. I wonder what I would do or even say if I had that chance.
I've pictured myself asking you if you miss me and if you're okay, but then I'm soon reminded how that's a waste of a minute with you.
Then I pictured myself just staring at you wondering if I would recognize your face and you staring back trying to recognize mine. But that's also a waste.
I think if God allowed me a minute, it would begin with a warm embrace. I imagine myself swooping you in my arms with so much love. Everything around us would stand still, or seem as though it was still. Nothing outside of the embrace would matter. I would then look you in your eyes and you stare back at mine smiling that beautiful smile I imagined you having. It is an innocent smile filled with love. The kind of smile you don't need to say much after because the smile is understood...if that makes sense. I then picture myself kissing your forehead; the same way I did the day you were born and the same way I did just before placing you into your bassinet the nurses used to peacefully exit with you. The only difference is that this time there will be no tears, no screaming, and no falling to the floor begging them to take me instead. I lastly picture myself whispering
I love you..and you confidently saying in return to me in a sweet voice I've only heard in my dreams
I love you too mommy.I imagine God touching my shoulder, signalling me that my time has ended...and I'm okay. I have no tears, no screams, no falling to the floor, and most of all, no fear. There is only love and a smile shared between us knowing we will see each other again. I vision you giving me one last hug this time ending with a kiss on my cheek; I give you one in return. You let go of me, grab God's hand, and give me one more smile just before turning around slowly and walking away with God. I imagine myself standing up, strong this time, and smile as I watch you both disappear gracefully into a bright light. That's when I know the two of you entered the Kingdom of Heaven.
I love you so much Cameron. I can't wait to see you again.
Love Always,
Mommy
Friday, September 13, 2013
Changing Decisions
Dear Cameron,
I love you and miss you so much.
Everything reminds me of you. I remember you and I making frequent trips to the grocery store walking up and down the aisle. If it looked good, we would buy it. Now, I just avoid grocery stores, and when I find myself going into one, which is very rare, I avoid certain aisle. It always seem to be the smallest things that trigger my favorite memories of you. I don't mind it though. With every day, I get "better"...for a lack of better and more describable words.
I was asked about a month ago
If you could go back in time and warn yourself about what was going to happen, would you?
My first response was
yes.
I've pondered on this question again and again; wondering if that was the correct response. I wondered if it would be fair to force myself to live in fear; waking up each morning thinking to myself "will today be the day". Instead of spending the 25 weeks loving you, taking care of myself, and getting to know you, I would have spent that time countdown the days I had left until I lost you.
It wasn't until I went to dinner on Tuesday with my support group when I finally came to my true and final decision.
I resent my first response and would rather reanswer the question, this time with a confident and solid
no.If given the opportunity to relive that experience all over again, I would. I would not change anything about those weeks. They were the best weeks of my life.
I would not force myself to live in fear and countdown the days. It would not be fair to you, Cameron, to subside the love, I still have, knowing I would soon have to, in respects, give you back. Those weeks were filled with an abundance amount of love, patience, compassion, and kindness. Looking back on my life now, I would not dare allow the fear and anticipation of a heartache to come and overshadow the qualities that desperately make me value and appreciate what I once had.
There are a lot of things in my life I would change or, at least try, to do differently. You, Cameron, are not one of them. The journey of a bereaved parent is one I'm not thrilled to embark, but God knows I'm strong enough to travel. Some people may think I'm insane to not want to try to fix such a tragedy. But I challenge them to think more intellectually. What if you were never meant to be here? What if you fulfilled your purpose and, in one way or another, are helping me fulfill mine?
Lord, in a world where things are hear today and gone the next, thank you for your mercy, love, and grace that is never ending. Thank you for the promises you made to me. Thank you for your Kingdom and for reminding me that sweet Cam is resting with you and that I will one day leave this grief behind and see my son again.
I love you Cam.
Love Always,
Mommy
Thursday, September 5, 2013
A Story of Strength
Dear Cameron,
I love you.
The past weeks have been...pleasant, I guess. You would be proud of me. Over the past week and a half, I've discovered that I can truly be happy. In the middle of this mess, God does send some sunshine. Grief does give me a break.
I've been spending lot of time with my girlfriends; my best girlfriends. They have truly been beyond supportive over the past three months. After having you, I wondered when I would smile again; when I would laugh a genuine laugh. The kind of laugh that has me gasping for breath, but in a good way.
My girlfriends have provided me with that laugh. They helped me find my smile when I felt like crying. They have been there for me so many times. Times when I didn't even want them there and they refused to leave. I locked myself in a bathroom crying once and your Auntie Tyra stood by the door waiting for me. I remember her saying "I'm not leaving until you come out."
Cam, they loved, ...I mean love, you so much. They would have spoiled you rotten.
Baby you are so loved.
But I often wonder what strength really is Cameron.
How does one attain strength especially when they feel so weak?? Why is it that I don't feel strong, but people always see me as a figure of strength? What truly makes me strong?
I'm honestly not sure what strength looks like, but I know where it comes from and that's the Lord. I think He sent me my strength in a couple forms; those forms happen to be my close friends, my family, but especially your Gigi, my mom, Patrice.
Throughout my pregnancy, my mom was so excited. I remember being fearful to even tell her. She said something so profound and meaningful that day at the dinner table. When I felt embarrassed and ashamed about you (sorry about that by the way honey) she told me "This child will not suffer or go without." It was a promise I knew she would keep.
My mother never left me, she always made sure you had whatever it was that you needed. From food to furniture, Gigi made sure you never went without. She would even pack my purse with those nasty, but healthy, pastry snacks we both hated. However she knew I would eat it when I grew desperate enough during the day.
"Did you eat today?!" she would ask me in her high squeaky voice.
"Yeeeessssaaaaa." I would reply back in a clearly annoyed one.
Having my mother with me that weekend was hard. I could look in her eyes and tell she wanted to lift all the emotional pain and heartache I was going through and bare it on her own shoulders. I could tell that she would rather it been her on that bed in my place. That's what mothers do; that's how they think. That's the heart of a mother. To watch me, her child, to go through so much and she have absolutely no control over it is very painful to endure, but she, my mom, did it. She never left. And that is an unbelievable amount of strength.
I guess what I'm trying to say Cam, is that I wouldn't be the strong person I am, without having the strength of other people behind me. This is not a one person deal. It takes the strength of others along with the power of God to produce the strength to get out of bed each morning, to continue living for a purpose and to even share things about your life and mine with complete strangers across world.
There are a lot of things I'm thankful for, but the thing I'm thankful for the most after having you is my mom. There was so much love in that room that day; so much strength from places I didn't even know existed. There was a lot of courage and bravery. I'm glad she was there to hold my hand, wipe my tears, and be my rock and my crutch when I physically and emotionally needed someone to lean on.
I love you honey.
Love Always,
Mommy
I love you.
The past weeks have been...pleasant, I guess. You would be proud of me. Over the past week and a half, I've discovered that I can truly be happy. In the middle of this mess, God does send some sunshine. Grief does give me a break.
I've been spending lot of time with my girlfriends; my best girlfriends. They have truly been beyond supportive over the past three months. After having you, I wondered when I would smile again; when I would laugh a genuine laugh. The kind of laugh that has me gasping for breath, but in a good way.
My girlfriends have provided me with that laugh. They helped me find my smile when I felt like crying. They have been there for me so many times. Times when I didn't even want them there and they refused to leave. I locked myself in a bathroom crying once and your Auntie Tyra stood by the door waiting for me. I remember her saying "I'm not leaving until you come out."
Cam, they loved, ...I mean love, you so much. They would have spoiled you rotten.
Baby you are so loved.
" You're so strong Domonique."If I had a dollar for every time that was told to me, I would be able to pay off my student loans.
But I often wonder what strength really is Cameron.
How does one attain strength especially when they feel so weak?? Why is it that I don't feel strong, but people always see me as a figure of strength? What truly makes me strong?
I'm honestly not sure what strength looks like, but I know where it comes from and that's the Lord. I think He sent me my strength in a couple forms; those forms happen to be my close friends, my family, but especially your Gigi, my mom, Patrice.
Throughout my pregnancy, my mom was so excited. I remember being fearful to even tell her. She said something so profound and meaningful that day at the dinner table. When I felt embarrassed and ashamed about you (sorry about that by the way honey) she told me "This child will not suffer or go without." It was a promise I knew she would keep.
My mother never left me, she always made sure you had whatever it was that you needed. From food to furniture, Gigi made sure you never went without. She would even pack my purse with those nasty, but healthy, pastry snacks we both hated. However she knew I would eat it when I grew desperate enough during the day.
"Did you eat today?!" she would ask me in her high squeaky voice.
"Yeeeessssaaaaa." I would reply back in a clearly annoyed one.
Having my mother with me that weekend was hard. I could look in her eyes and tell she wanted to lift all the emotional pain and heartache I was going through and bare it on her own shoulders. I could tell that she would rather it been her on that bed in my place. That's what mothers do; that's how they think. That's the heart of a mother. To watch me, her child, to go through so much and she have absolutely no control over it is very painful to endure, but she, my mom, did it. She never left. And that is an unbelievable amount of strength.
I guess what I'm trying to say Cam, is that I wouldn't be the strong person I am, without having the strength of other people behind me. This is not a one person deal. It takes the strength of others along with the power of God to produce the strength to get out of bed each morning, to continue living for a purpose and to even share things about your life and mine with complete strangers across world.
There are a lot of things I'm thankful for, but the thing I'm thankful for the most after having you is my mom. There was so much love in that room that day; so much strength from places I didn't even know existed. There was a lot of courage and bravery. I'm glad she was there to hold my hand, wipe my tears, and be my rock and my crutch when I physically and emotionally needed someone to lean on.
I love you honey.
Love Always,
Mommy
Monday, August 26, 2013
First "Holiday" Without You
Dear Cameron,
I miss you. I wish I can just peek into heaven and see how well you're doing and see how happy you are. I want to see your precious face again, I want to hear your voice, your laugh, see your beautiful smile, feel your soft and delicate skin. All the things I wish to see will have to wait until I get there.
I survived my first "holiday". It was lonely without you. I expected to be pregnant on my birthday last week, reaching almost the end of my pregnancy. I had plans to go out to eat and watch you kick and move around after I finished my meal. I miss the pleasantly painful sudden kicks you would give me. That was the best part about being pregnant.
Instead, for my birthday, I spent most of my day sleeping. I cried a little,...well a lot... just to get it out. I really miss you.
My coworker bought me a cake, some balloons and a beautiful book called A Woman's Daily Prayer Book for women. She made me feel very special. It was in my moment of sorrow, the moment I almost allowed myself to stay in that raw place of hopelessness again when God sent my coworker with tools to help bring me out. She was just what I needed.
Thank you Lord.
I thanked her endlessly as I was fighting back tears after reading the most beautiful card I've received since Mother's Day. It was a card of strength, encouragement, celebration and friendship. It was the perfect card on a day such as that. A sad day turned beautiful knowing that someone though of me.
It wasn't until later when I realized that holidays can cause me to take a couple of steps backwards. It causes people who have lost loved ones to reminisce on their memory and what they used to do with them during that time of family and celebration.
But what about me? I never got that time with you Cam. I never got to spend Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years with you. Instead I "reminisce" on the memory I could have had. I have to imagine how your mouth would have drooled while I ate your Gigi's delicious candied yam. Or how your eyes, so bright and so beautiful as mine, would have lite up from all the lights on the decorative Christmas tree. Or how tired you would have been on New Year Eve but your older loving cousins Iris, Solomon, Cidney and Morgan would have been too loud and excited for you to fall asleep soundly. These are my memories. And they're so heart breaking because I will never get them.
I hope that makes sense.
I'm so thankful to see 23, but I just wanted to see 23 with you. This year was going to be extra special for me, and I guess it still is; in a different bittersweet kind of way. I'm thankful to have met you and to have you a part of my life forever. I wonder if 23 years from now I will be speaking of you the same way I am now.
I hope not. I hope I'm happier.
It may sound crazy, but although you're gone, you don't feel gone. I still feel you around, even as I write this letter to you, I still feel your presence, and I love it.
I love you Cameron.
Love Always,
Mommy
I miss you. I wish I can just peek into heaven and see how well you're doing and see how happy you are. I want to see your precious face again, I want to hear your voice, your laugh, see your beautiful smile, feel your soft and delicate skin. All the things I wish to see will have to wait until I get there.
I survived my first "holiday". It was lonely without you. I expected to be pregnant on my birthday last week, reaching almost the end of my pregnancy. I had plans to go out to eat and watch you kick and move around after I finished my meal. I miss the pleasantly painful sudden kicks you would give me. That was the best part about being pregnant.
Instead, for my birthday, I spent most of my day sleeping. I cried a little,...well a lot... just to get it out. I really miss you.
My coworker bought me a cake, some balloons and a beautiful book called A Woman's Daily Prayer Book for women. She made me feel very special. It was in my moment of sorrow, the moment I almost allowed myself to stay in that raw place of hopelessness again when God sent my coworker with tools to help bring me out. She was just what I needed.
Thank you Lord.
I thanked her endlessly as I was fighting back tears after reading the most beautiful card I've received since Mother's Day. It was a card of strength, encouragement, celebration and friendship. It was the perfect card on a day such as that. A sad day turned beautiful knowing that someone though of me.
It wasn't until later when I realized that holidays can cause me to take a couple of steps backwards. It causes people who have lost loved ones to reminisce on their memory and what they used to do with them during that time of family and celebration.
But what about me? I never got that time with you Cam. I never got to spend Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years with you. Instead I "reminisce" on the memory I could have had. I have to imagine how your mouth would have drooled while I ate your Gigi's delicious candied yam. Or how your eyes, so bright and so beautiful as mine, would have lite up from all the lights on the decorative Christmas tree. Or how tired you would have been on New Year Eve but your older loving cousins Iris, Solomon, Cidney and Morgan would have been too loud and excited for you to fall asleep soundly. These are my memories. And they're so heart breaking because I will never get them.
I hope that makes sense.
I'm so thankful to see 23, but I just wanted to see 23 with you. This year was going to be extra special for me, and I guess it still is; in a different bittersweet kind of way. I'm thankful to have met you and to have you a part of my life forever. I wonder if 23 years from now I will be speaking of you the same way I am now.
I hope not. I hope I'm happier.
It may sound crazy, but although you're gone, you don't feel gone. I still feel you around, even as I write this letter to you, I still feel your presence, and I love it.
I love you Cameron.
Love Always,
Mommy
Monday, August 19, 2013
A Day of Hope- Miscarriage, Stillbirth, and Infant Death
Dear Cameron,
Today is August 19. Today is considered A Day of Hope in the miscarriage, stillborn, and infant death community. I don't understand this day very well since this is still so new to me; it's still fresh. I don't know if I'm suppose to have hope that this won't happen again or if I'm suppose to take the time to remember you and honor you. If either one are the case, I do that everyday.
Cameron, I hope this doesn't happen to me or to anyone else ever again. Although this hope is unrealistic, my hope is that when it does, that person is able to find the joy and love in the midst of their heartache. I hope they are able to know that their child is loved and will always be remembered. My hope is that every tear they cry is not cried in vain and that they remember that God loves them and He never left them. I hope that mother uses her strength to tell her story of her baby that one day she is able to help someone else who is going through the same thing. My hope is that she passes her hope to someone else to build them up. I hope she is a light and encouragement for others who may feel hopeless.
Losing a child, weather it be a miscarriage, stillbirth, or due to infant death can be a very lonely place, especially if someone doesn't know Jesus. However, I think mothers who have suffered, and those still suffering, from such a loss should always remember that we are not alone. Sometimes it is hard to seek the light in the midst of this trial, but we can be a light for each other. There are days when I would rather be in that dark place, but my friends, family, and the love of Jesus won't allow me to.
Sometimes I want to have my pity party of one, refreshments not included, and just be left alone, but something in me won't allow me to. Maybe that's my own hope, or my faith. Honestly I really don't know, but whatever it may be is so strong-willed that it doesn't even allow me to go to that raw devilish place most times.
My hope is that mothers no longer live in fear. That we continue to take care of ourselves and to remind ourselves that this (stillbirth, infant death, and miscarriage) is out of our control. We, mothers, are only the passing point for our children. We do not have the ability to peak inside our bellies and see what is going on. We cannot build-a-baby like we can a beautifully stuffed bear. I hope that we continue to enjoy pregnancy. My hope is also that we allow God to be God and remember that his plan is much greater than our own. We have to know that God sees the entire picture and that He knows what's best for us. I hope people allow the heart of a bereaved mother room to grieve and I hope people don't expect us to be strong all the time. I hope that women know that it truly and honestly gets better and that we will learn a lot about ourselves along the way. I hope we remember that God would not have allowed this to happen if He knew we couldn't bare it. I hope that mothers remember that although our children may have been stillbirths, they were still born and are very much still loved.
Now that's a realistic hope.
I love you Cam so much.
Love Always,
Mommy
Today is August 19. Today is considered A Day of Hope in the miscarriage, stillborn, and infant death community. I don't understand this day very well since this is still so new to me; it's still fresh. I don't know if I'm suppose to have hope that this won't happen again or if I'm suppose to take the time to remember you and honor you. If either one are the case, I do that everyday.
Cameron, I hope this doesn't happen to me or to anyone else ever again. Although this hope is unrealistic, my hope is that when it does, that person is able to find the joy and love in the midst of their heartache. I hope they are able to know that their child is loved and will always be remembered. My hope is that every tear they cry is not cried in vain and that they remember that God loves them and He never left them. I hope that mother uses her strength to tell her story of her baby that one day she is able to help someone else who is going through the same thing. My hope is that she passes her hope to someone else to build them up. I hope she is a light and encouragement for others who may feel hopeless.
Sometimes I want to have my pity party of one, refreshments not included, and just be left alone, but something in me won't allow me to. Maybe that's my own hope, or my faith. Honestly I really don't know, but whatever it may be is so strong-willed that it doesn't even allow me to go to that raw devilish place most times.
My hope is that mothers no longer live in fear. That we continue to take care of ourselves and to remind ourselves that this (stillbirth, infant death, and miscarriage) is out of our control. We, mothers, are only the passing point for our children. We do not have the ability to peak inside our bellies and see what is going on. We cannot build-a-baby like we can a beautifully stuffed bear. I hope that we continue to enjoy pregnancy. My hope is also that we allow God to be God and remember that his plan is much greater than our own. We have to know that God sees the entire picture and that He knows what's best for us. I hope people allow the heart of a bereaved mother room to grieve and I hope people don't expect us to be strong all the time. I hope that women know that it truly and honestly gets better and that we will learn a lot about ourselves along the way. I hope we remember that God would not have allowed this to happen if He knew we couldn't bare it. I hope that mothers remember that although our children may have been stillbirths, they were still born and are very much still loved.
Now that's a realistic hope.
1 Thessalonians 4: 13-14
But I do not want you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning those who have fallen asleep, lest you sorrow as others who have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so God will bring with Him those who sleep in Jesus.I hope this helps.
I love you Cam so much.
Love Always,
Mommy
Friday, August 16, 2013
Thank You
Dear Cameron,
Thank you.
Thank you for everything you have taught me and the things you continue to teach me. I have learned more about myself from you in 25 weeks than I have in 23 years.
Cameron, thank you for showing me what love is; what the love for my child is.
My love is kind, sacrificing, and selfless. My love is unconditional. You revealed to me the true meaning of a mother's love, how to get to it, and how to express it. You helped me open my heart in a way I never imagined, say things I never imagined saying, and do things without thinking twice. Thank you Cam for allowing me to put you first, to put your needs before my own. Thank you for allowing me to alter my life willingly in a way that would be pleasing and wonderful for you. Thank you for reminding me that you are loved, even now, in your "absence". And thank you for loving me back.
Thank you Cameron for teaching me patience.
Thank you for helping me take one day at a time, enjoying the simple things and looking forward to the days ahead. Thank you for revealing to me the value of even the smallest moments such as hearing your heart beat for the first time, buying your very first "I love mommy" onesie, hour long naps with you, and feeling your strong kicks and movements daily. Thank you for that and thank you for reminding me to never take that for granted. Thank you for revealing to me the value of a life.
Cam, thank you for teaching me compassion.
Thank you for the understanding I have gained. The compassion and understanding I have for other mothers and fathers who are experiencing the same aching pain I am experiencing. Thank you for that. Thank you for helping me to never look at a young child or a baby the same way ever again. Never again will I ever look at a child crying the same way. I will never complain about a baby's cries. Instead, I will imagine how yours would have sounded. Thank you for this compassionate spirit. It was not given in vain.
Thank you Cameron for drawing me closer to God.
Thank you for reminding me that even when my back is up against the wall, to continue to trust God. Thank you for letting me know the end is better, greater and more powerful than the beginning. Thank you for being my testimony. Thank you Cam for reminding me that God is the giver of life. It is only because of God that you were ever here. That it was only because of Him that I knew you, I mean, know you Cameron. Thank you for helping me seek out the Lord in the midst of my storm; in the midst of the hardest trial I am going through in my life. To continue to count on God, to continue to trust God. Thank you for letting me know I'm not alone. Thank you for reminding me that although this path, this journey, may seem hard, I am strong enough to bare it and to never dismiss God if I come to a road block along the way. Thank you Cameron for reminding me that God and you never left me; that God continues to keep me. That I am safe in his hands and that you are safe in his arms.
I can't wait to see you again baby.
I love you.
Love Always,
Mommy
Thank you.
Thank you for everything you have taught me and the things you continue to teach me. I have learned more about myself from you in 25 weeks than I have in 23 years.
Cameron, thank you for showing me what love is; what the love for my child is.
My love is kind, sacrificing, and selfless. My love is unconditional. You revealed to me the true meaning of a mother's love, how to get to it, and how to express it. You helped me open my heart in a way I never imagined, say things I never imagined saying, and do things without thinking twice. Thank you Cam for allowing me to put you first, to put your needs before my own. Thank you for allowing me to alter my life willingly in a way that would be pleasing and wonderful for you. Thank you for reminding me that you are loved, even now, in your "absence". And thank you for loving me back.
Thank you Cameron for teaching me patience.
Thank you for helping me take one day at a time, enjoying the simple things and looking forward to the days ahead. Thank you for revealing to me the value of even the smallest moments such as hearing your heart beat for the first time, buying your very first "I love mommy" onesie, hour long naps with you, and feeling your strong kicks and movements daily. Thank you for that and thank you for reminding me to never take that for granted. Thank you for revealing to me the value of a life.
Cam, thank you for teaching me compassion.
Thank you for the understanding I have gained. The compassion and understanding I have for other mothers and fathers who are experiencing the same aching pain I am experiencing. Thank you for that. Thank you for helping me to never look at a young child or a baby the same way ever again. Never again will I ever look at a child crying the same way. I will never complain about a baby's cries. Instead, I will imagine how yours would have sounded. Thank you for this compassionate spirit. It was not given in vain.
Thank you Cameron for drawing me closer to God.
Thank you for reminding me that even when my back is up against the wall, to continue to trust God. Thank you for letting me know the end is better, greater and more powerful than the beginning. Thank you for being my testimony. Thank you Cam for reminding me that God is the giver of life. It is only because of God that you were ever here. That it was only because of Him that I knew you, I mean, know you Cameron. Thank you for helping me seek out the Lord in the midst of my storm; in the midst of the hardest trial I am going through in my life. To continue to count on God, to continue to trust God. Thank you for letting me know I'm not alone. Thank you for reminding me that although this path, this journey, may seem hard, I am strong enough to bare it and to never dismiss God if I come to a road block along the way. Thank you Cameron for reminding me that God and you never left me; that God continues to keep me. That I am safe in his hands and that you are safe in his arms.
I'm thankful for the time I spent with you, getting to know you. It was the greatest 25 weeks of my life. I wouldn't trade that in for anything. I'm proud to be your mother. It was, I mean is, truly an honor. I'm glad God saw that I am the best candidate for you. I would do it all over again, the same way, a million times more if asked.
You were, I mean, you are worth it.I can't wait to see you again baby.
I love you.
Love Always,
Mommy
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