| Christmas without Ava |
Christmas has always left me with a warm and fuzzy feeling. Something about the season just brought a feeling of peace and contentment like no other time of the year. It’s a time to rejoice with family, share special gifts, decorate a giant tree and indulge in goodies and hot chocolate until the waist band on our pants tells us to stop.
Despite the hustle and bustle of shopping, baking and visiting friends and family, tranquility and harmony always managed to arrive at my doorstep and keep me placated when the ambiance of the Christmas season was in the air.
This year is different. Very different. Visions of our child staring in wonderment at sparkly Christmas tree lights, or cooing and giggling while Rudolf sings about his shiny red reindeer nose have been crushed. Warm and fuzzy feelings have been replaced with emptiness and sorrow as the arrival of the so called season of magic and merriness fall upon us.
I’m actually tremendously embarrassed at my inability to dig deep inside myself to find that sense of joy and happiness I’ve worked so hard at pursuing and clinging to since my baby passed away. I’m discomfited that my will and strength to move forward has seemingly screeched to a grinding halt. There was no warning, time to prepare, or even a moment of clarity when I sensed this shift in mood and perspective happening.
I know I have much to be thankful for. I have a wonderful husband who loves me fiercely and dearly. I have an amazing family who cares deeply and sincerely for me. I have the most astounding and heartwarming circle of friends a woman could ever hope for. Yet, despite everything wonderful in my life, the loss of my baby, the tiny little life I had yearned and dreamed of, wanted to love and nurture, tickle and hold, kiss goodnight and tell stories to, makes me clutch to an overwhelming darkness and shadowy sadness where feelings of joy, warmth and merriness seem erroneously out of place.
My growing sadness is taking its toll. I’m always tired, the scales show I am too thin, I sleep too much and am too weak to even attempt my passion for running anymore. There’s emptiness in my heart that nothing can fix, and I’m mystified about how to make it better.
Putting up the tree this year was difficult. Despite powerful memories and feelings of isolation and sadness without Ava here to share in our seasonal traditions, we purchased an ornament for her. Angel wings encrusted with faux diamonds (her birthstone) seemed most suitable. We also bought a jewel encrusted picture frame to hang where her angelic and perfect little baby face could be treasured and cherished on our Christmas tree.
I just wish she was here to experience the magic of this season. There’s so many things I wish she would have had the chance to relish in, but Christmas, a time of sharing, giving, magic and wonderment, is something no child deserves to miss. Labels: Grief and Loss, In Memory of Ava |
Permanent link to this entry
|
|
|
|
|
Karla: I am sorry Ava is not able to be with you but as they say she is always in your heart.
I have been meaning to email you to see how all is going but wasnt sure if you were just busy remodling and time has flown by.
I check your site daily and have been thinking about you alot.
I am so sorry you have to experience this, as I always say you are an extremely strong and remarkable woman.
The ornaments are beautiful.
Kate
praying you will find the strength you need for this holiday season and even in your pain to find moments of peace. your tributes to memories of ava on your tree brought tears to my eyes. i hope the delicate sparkle of joy symbolized in these ornaments will again be renewed in your heart.
This is our fifth Christmas without our little Matthew, and we still buy an angel for the tree in his honour every year. I know the first year is really hard. Forgive yourself for feeling that way. Hugs to you.
Karla,
Even though we have never met my heart breaks for you everytime that I read your words about Ava
You are so strong to share these feelings and please know that even people who have never met you or your husband are wishing you peace and all good things.
Merry Christmas
Karla, I wish you lived closer to me because I would like to give you a big hug, and I have a reputation for giving the best!
But, an internet one will have to do....
(((((Karla)))))
I think the ornament is absolutely precious and beautiful.
Karla, my twin sis wrote today about the babies she lost. She linked to something she had written a few years back about grief, I thought I'd share it with you:
"Grief is living in the deep end. Sink or swim. Consider the options. At any moment you can choose to swim, to continue to struggle against the current, to keep your head above water. Or you can choose to sink, to let your arms go limp, to gulp in the dark murky water, and die.
Every breath is a choice. A choice to continue. A decision to believe. To believe that tomorrow will be better, and if not tomorrow, then perhaps the next day. Every breath is a choice, and that choice is hope." Amy Maxwell
She's written more on why bad things happen to good people and on her experiences: her address is http://gentlewhisper.com
Karla
I have been lurking for a while and have never come out because the words "I'm sorry" have never felt adequate for you loss.
The pain you feel will always be there but won't always cut so deep. Time does not heal but it does make the pain less intense.
Nothing will get you though this quickly. Grief is a journey that you must travel alone. By alone I mean it is YOUR journey. Even though you have a fantastic support system in place, they are unable to help you get through this quicker.
Don't rush the grieving. Allow it to wash over you and don't push it aside.
The little angel ornament is perfect.
Hang in there Karla. You will be ok.
Loves goes on forever, and your love for your Ava will never die.
I lost my first baby on December 15, 1979. I will never forget her.
One December 15, about 15 years ago, my rose bush had a yellow bud. This is in Michigan. We don't have rosebuds in December.
But, that year we did. I picked it, brought it inside. Of course, it never opened. I still have it.
I never got to hold her. But she was real. And she still is.
The pain you feel now is only because you love her so. That means it's a good pain. And it will pass, but the love - that will last forever. Trust me.
Hi Karla,
I just found your site. I have a similar story. My daughter died in June... meconium and an acute trauma (uterine rupture). She also lived for about 7 hours. I'm so sorry about Ava. I hope you have some happy moments this season.
Sarah
Words cannot express the sorrow we all feel for you and your husband at this time. I hope you know that the feelings you have this Christmas are perfectly understandable, and you shouldn't feel wrong about them. Take this time for yourself, you need it. For what it's worth, I think you are coping so unbelieveably well. Happier times will come to you.
Oh those ornaments are beautiful - just like you and Ava.
One day you're going to share the stories behind those ornaments with others as you decorate your tree.
God's peace Karla....and one step at a time.
Oh - and very truthful words from the sister (gentle whisper)
Again, I am sobing as I read your post. You are an awesome writer. Celebrate the season with many memories of Ava. I cannot fathom how hard this is for you. I am praying for you and your family.
I'm sorry you and your husband have to go through this.
Thinking about you..
I guess everyone else has said it all, but I want to chime in too. I love the ornament. It's thoughtful and perfect. Don't be embarressed! I think what you are feeling is perfectly normal. I can understand why you want to be strong, but it's OK if you aren't.
Karla,
I was directed to your other blog earlier this year when Ava passed. I can't tell you the tears I shed for you and your husband. Just reading the letters you had written to her before she was born RIPPED my heart out. I have to say that there are some things in this life that NO MATTER HOW HARD I try I will NEVER be able to make sense of. Your loss of Ava is one of them. I know that birthdays, holidays and other "significant" dates are terribly hard. I know there is nothing I can say to take away your grief but just know that another mommy in Florida, who ONLY partially understands is thinking and praying for you.
Trish
I say, be mad. Be upset. Don't enjoy this Christmas like you usually do. It's perfectly understandable, and I would wonder more if you were cheery and Christmasy. Sure, perhaps it will get easier through time, and your pain will be less, but for now, you're hurting. Why on earth are you embarrassed that you can't dig deep and be the strong one that doesn't show her pain? That won't help you. I think you might always experience the pain if you don't go through it at some time. You are strong, but don't be afraid to be open and vulnerable, too. You deserve it. What happened to you and Mark is awful, and you didn't deserve that. You lost the most important thing in your life, and she can't be here (in body) to share this special holiday with you. I'm not saying to drown in your sorrows, but by all means, please don't think you have to be the same Karla you've always been at this time of year. You will NEVER be the same Karla you EVER were, EVER again.
I'd almost forgotten how beautiful she is. Thank you for putting her picture up again. I've actually gone back to your other site a few times, but I can't bear to look. You and Mark created a simply beautiful child. I love the ornaments, and the wings are so very, very fitting. I do hope you feel better, and I'm here whenever you need me.
Others have said it much better than I, but just wanted you to know that you and your family are in our thoughts and prayers. It's been said that losing a child is perhaps the hardest loss in life that one would ever have to endure. My heart goes out to you. Lean into the grief and the pain. Lovely Ava -- the ornament is a beautiful tribute to your sweet angel.
I don't know what to say. I think you are incredbly brave for facing Christmas head-on -- getting a tree, making Ava part of it. You may feel weak sometimes, but that was an amazingly strong thing to do.
You will never know how much learning about Ava has changed my life. I think of her, and you, often.
With tears in my eyes I wish I had the words to offer comfort. My heart aches for you. ((hugs))
|
|
|
|
|
|
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
|
|
|
Recently
Monday, November 14, 2005
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Friday, October 28, 2005
Friday, October 21, 2005
Monday, October 17, 2005
Friday, October 07, 2005
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Monday, October 03, 2005
Saturday, September 24, 2005
Friday, September 23, 2005
|
|
|
|
Kate Giovinco Photography : November 30, 2005 
