losing

Have you ever held something in, maybe a lie..maybe a truth...maybe an entire story and it felt like it was eating at you? It feels like a gigantic cancer eating at your insides and you want to get it out but don't know how? Like a cyst growing inside you removing any working organs and replacing it with itself.....? YOU are not the cancer or cyst. The untold story. I've spilled certain beans, I've mentioned things but this untold story is that growth I would like to minimize. I hope this helps me breathe, to do you justice, to feel better....for myself and for our family.


I don't really know how to start this but I guess everyone knows it doesn't end well. This is a story that doesn't have a happy ending or give you warm fuzzies and replenish your faith in the world. or.....i guess it could if you've got your rose colored glasses on and its not YOUR baby, your home or your life. Good things HAVE happened, people have shown up and I really try not to be negative, I swear, I JUST HATE THIS.

The story is divided into two parts because I guess I am divided into two parts: before and after. A certain me will never be who I was, no matter how much I pray, hope, medicate, relive, avoid or any attempt to be old me. Old me gave birth to a sweet baby February 21, 2018. It was the most glorious birthing situation one could imagine. Her birth was even featured on babycenter with her photos. I felt like I was killin it in the mom game just in general for the first months. We didn't know if the baby was going to be a boy or girl, we'd already had one of each so the surprise was pretty fun. I can honestly say I soaked her in. I didn't get upset when she didn't sleep, only when I couldn't fix it. I didn't feel slighted, or bitter or traumatized like I did after Tucker. By now I was used to mommin' and I felt BLESSED. so many 2 am or 4 am photos where I was just soaking you in, not self deprecating humor about my bad luck or whatever it is I do when I'm tired of the older kids. LOL

We could feel the walls closing in on us in that house on Honeysuckle. It was small. I'd worked at getting Tucker and Quinn to share a room months before I gave birth so we'd have a nursery. We bought a triple bunk bed for TTQ sleepovers, but legitimtately every night was just a sleepover but the kind where no one sleeps. Husband working 5-6 hours away, 2-3 kids every day, pregnant, this did not fly. We started looking for a new house and fell in love with one in Joshua. The neighborhood seemed safe, we wanted more space, we wanted to expand. I packed an entire house nearly alone so late June and early July I was always BUSY. You were not being soaked in as much as I previously had. You were satiated so I could get my to do list checked off. I propped bottles to pack boxes and I REGRET THAT. I should have stared into your eyes more, stroked your hair, patted your butt...should have taken deep whiffs of you....but I forgot how important that was those weeks. I get my priorities mixed up because I want to do it all. I try to do it all. I can't do it all. You and your siblings should have been it all. Nothing bad happened yet, I just truly regret those few weeks at Honeysuckle where I was too busy to be better to you. You grew, you thrived, you got bigger, you enjoyed your life. I was your person. Your 2nd favorite person was Tucker.

September 24, grandpa got to watch you alone for the very first time. He volunteered so we could take the kids to the indoor water park for Tucker's birthday. Grandpa and I agreed on a lot of things, disagreed on just as many.... but I am a control freak and wanted to make absolute certain you'd be okay. You were. He enjoyed it. He'd already had a relationship with Tucker, Quinn, and Teagan. He wanted the chance for a relationship with you, too. I relenquished my perfectionism, the thought that we couldn't go somewhere if Granna wasn't watching ya'll. We had a fun time. I chewed my nails a bit relenquishing some control and leaving you for the first time, especially with my dad. He felt important, happy, needed, lucky, joyful watching you. You were you, afterall. We all felt that way in your presence, and that's not just something I say lightly, I'm aware we martyr the deceased..forget the bad. You were just GOOD.

I still keep the text conversation from my dad and the way it went....because the spectrum of good to bad is right there in one screenshot. "how's the baby?" I sent a picture of the fun we were having. He said you were just fine. We got home, grandpa left. Normal life. The next text from Grandpa was 4 days later..... "I'm so sorry I WISH I could take away your pain."

So
I spent the day you died doing normal things. Normal things like celebrating your brothers birthday, making meals, decorating for fall. These normal things I now brace myself for. I brace myself for every day. I am so tired of getting used to the day. I'm so tired. You wouldn't want any of this. You wouldn't want everyone's life revolving around how sad your mom is. You wouldn't like who I am now...the "after" me. I'm trying, I promise. But I'm not anyone to look toward, anyone to follow. I can fill my days with a million things, but none of them are you, so sometimes I give up. I give in. I sleep, I drink, I eat. I walk and talk but everywhere I go and every thing I do is full of you, the moments that make me tear up and feel like you're close....and the ones where I stare blankly til I can process a sentence, or the ones where I reach for a bag to throw up into because something zoomed me back to that horrible night. Flashing lights. Sirens. The mention of CPR. Cords and wires. September. Decorating. I just carry it all.

September 28, 2018 We'd been in our new pretty house for about 2 months. I had been wishy washy on how I wanted everyone's rooms, projects to do to make it how we wanted it, if Tucker was mature enough to have his own bathroom, etc so you were still in a pack n play in our room. You had just outgrown the rock n play since you started sitting up. Taylor spent the morning mowing. I was decorating for fall this day and the night before because I love holidays and I love decorating, I love Dollar Tree and I love Pinterest, I LOVE CREATING. (LOVED, I guess. I'm speaking of the old me.) My in-laws came by around noon to bring belated birthday gifts for Quinn and Tucker. It was a Friday. I dressed you in a pink footy pajama outfit with a pink headwrap bow for the visit with granna and pawpaw. You were happy. I showed granna how if I sat you in your bouncer and you could hear my voice from anywhere in the room, you'd follow my voice. I was your person, remember? I was your home. We laughed. The kids played with their new toys. They fought a bit over who and what was cooler. At 1 something, granna and paw paw left, daddy was leaving for work at 1:30 and you were starting to get frustrated with the overstimulation of noise and being passed around so I started to change the bedding in the pack and play. We knew you were just about to break that tooth, too. Daddy made your bottle. You could hold it, and you'd fall asleep. You hadn't spit up for months. We had this under control. The night before you died, dad wanted to watch tv so he rolled your "bed" into our bathroom. That wasn't your first unconventional sleeping arrangement. We'd just had friends come in from out of state and 7 kids in one house gets loud, so you slept in the massive closet...the closet I was so proud of with so much storage and connected to the laundry room and my bathroom. I always wanted that. This day, since your bed was already in the bathroom, we just kept you in there. You were fussing and it seemed faster if we just got you a full belly, warm bed & sleep. So we tag teamed this nap, like we so often did. We were a pretty good team we thought. Dad kissed you, he left. I started back on my decorations while Tucker and Quinn went wild with their toys. I kept having to shush them into the play room....but they never lasted long in there. Tucker was his sisters keeper and you were not allowed to make a peep before officer Tucker reported a noise. You didnt make any. Getting teeth and socializing are tiring. I checked on you at some point during the afternoon, we were loud, you were fine. I decorated. Kids did their thing, you did your thing. I made a bottle again around 5 pm. You took it, I closed the door. You werent wearing the bow like you were at noon, just the pink jammies. This was the 2nd time as a bigger infant that you'd worn footy warm jammies. It was chilly, like fall should be. I made dinner. I let the big kids have leftover birthday cake because they behaved. As they were finishing up, I thought I'd get you up. I secretly wanted to give you a taste of cake to see your expression, but you were still processing the flavor of avocado and banana & I wanted to do things the "right" way for you to grow up with a love of vegetables and fruit like I attempted with your siblings. It was dark in the bathroom, I really didn't wanna wake you if you didn't wanna be woken but I figured I'd just go back and check, shine the light. Oh I should mention, every single time Holland woke up she would smile, look straight into my eyes and just be pumped up for life. When I shined my phone's flashlight into the pack and play I could not see her. I panicked internally but knew it would be okay. I couldn't find her. I found her after a few seconds wrapped up and warm. I thought "oh my gosh, scary. shes okay." But the way you woke up every single time was not happening. you were limp, that meant you were just sleeping good. I patted you, said your name as I rushed into the living room to see better, repeating your name louder. I shook you just a bit so you would come to, because you were just sleeping. Teething and socializing are hard, ya know? You were limp but You were warm. Tucker knew something was wrong. I did too . I laid you on the couch and started doing infant cpr. So about 1 minute from going to wake to cpr. After 15 seconds I knew this wasn't okay. The couch had too much give, I remembered what I'd learned in the class we took after Quinn's NICU stay for meningitis.... so I moved you to the entryway front door rug as I called 911 on speaker so I could see them when they pulled up. Well before I sat you on the rug, I ran outside screaming for someone to help me, anyone. People walk their dogs, work out, whatever, someone just help me. Tucker was screaming. I was trying to talk to 911. I thought it would be okay, I really really did. This would be another story to tell years from now on how we'd been through so much but it was okay. I was doing what I knew. I briefly remember worrying about pushing too hard, but a broken rib would have been preferable if you just freaking gasped for breath. Please. come on. COME ON HOLLAND. BREATHE. You didn't. Blood began to come out of your mouth and nose as I put my mouth over them....they didn't teach this in the class....... I spit the blood on the rug, desperately going back for another breath each time. The kids were screaming. I was waiting for those flashing lights and once I could see them approaching and hear the sirens I sprinted with you and slid on my knees in the grass to the first responder who was also in the same kind of hurry and handed you over as he tried. I unzipped your cute pink outfit but I wasn't fast enough so they cut it. Tucker was still screaming. He asked if she was going to be okay and I lied. I still kind of did think it would be okay, I wasn't fully lying at the time. I grabbed Tucker on the lawn with my newly skinned up knees as multiple people in uniform bustled. I have prayed that hard 2 other times, for my sister's baby Parker to be okay in 2015 and for my friend's baby to be okay a month ago. The kind of desperate, sell your soul, do anything, begging type of prayer. I opened my eyes to a blonde lady walking her dog just staring at the whole scene. AWESOME, HELLO NEW NEIGHBOR. GO AWAY. They took her by ambulance to Huguely. I called my inlaws and they raced over. The police came in. They talked to my kids and calmed them down. They talked to me about our day. I called the hotline to reach taylor because he can't have a phone at work. I said I didn't know if she was okay but she wasn't breathing. I was shaking. I couldn't get my hands to work to sign stuff. I just wanted to fucking GO. I couldn't drive myself because I couldn't even sign a form or form a thought. My in laws called my dad. Someone had to watch the kids. I don't know what took him so long......Taylor beat us to the hospital. I had a terrible feeling after recounting the story to police so I googled "blood coming out of nose and mouth baby not breathing" and thats when I realized she was already gone when I was attempting to save her. I couldn't listen to my mother in law tell me that it was going to be okay anymore because I knew it wasn't. I told them she was dead and I think I snapped at her just trying to be calming. I cannot stand being lied to and I can't stand not knowing everything about everything at all times. I should have let the doctors break it, should have kept ignorant, but false hope isn't something comforting for me. I ran in to find taylor with the chaplain in a room. I already knew... but I couldn't look at him. I kept my back to the doctor, taylor, and chaplain as they told us they could not get a heartbeat. Since I googled it, I knew there was not a chance she'd come back like pulling the plug in another situation wouldn't be wise until its certain. I'd have demanded in other situations to keep going... but I just knew. .......so we gave permission for them stop working on her.
Then we saw her. We held her. Her hands, her face, her hair. From the time they took her and I was praying on the lawn, I was not in my body. I was up above watching it all. I wasn't there. Her diaper was a little dirty. I used my bare hands to clean her little butt. I had baby wipes but I used my hands. She got cold as we held her...but we kept her wrapped in a blanket. Like that would warm her up. I wasn't there as I recounted again and again for detectives the timeline and the story. I wasn't there as her body turned so cold and colorless. I have never felt so alien and empty as I watched everyone come in and out...like I was an outsider and I was not present, it wasn't real anyway..just a bad dream...this wouldn't happen. I watched my family sobbing and I did not cry. I got annoyed with my husband and family being blubbering messes while I heard the words from the doctor, the chaplain, the investigators. I walked around a little while I let someone else hold her. I knew this was beyond fucked up, but shock is a weird weird thing. Of course I was upset. I didn't even know WTF was going on so I just watched as a spectator, somebody who wasn't involved, whos baby was still alive, whos husband wasn't screaming, whos family wasn't showing up little by little with those "I'm sorry" faces. I didn't know any of them. I didn't even recognize a nurse who had been my best friend during middle and high school. We got a clip of her hair. I offered whatever organs that would be helpful.I remember thinking what Jessica wished she'd have known after she lost Parker. I like to be prepared, I like to know it all. The medical examiner came. He waited quite awhile while we said goodbye. I was ready to get the F out of there, away from the sadness, the looks, the scariness, the bad dream. They carried her out in their arms in the blanket instead of a body bag around midnight. I rode home with Jessica and Hannah. Brent ordered us pizza, I couldn't eat. Caitlin had relieved my dad of watching the kids so he could go to the hospital earlier and she cleaned my house. I felt bad because she was pregnant cleaning someone elses house but I was grateful...I didn't know who else we'd get visited by I googled tips on how to tell your child about death. I just kinda sat there scrolling. As I made my way through my house, I still wasn't here. The pack n play, the blankets, the rug I spit on was gone and taken for evidence. We pulled Tucker aside and had the talk with him. She was his girl, his dream, his favorite. He wanted a baby sister from the day I got pregnant with her. He always wanted sisters. He was her protector from day 1. I knew what I was telling him, the words coming out, but I didn't even know them for myself. Again, shock.... We laid with the kids in bed as Tucker screamed that he'd never be happy again and had terrible night terrors screaming but fully asleep. It was scary. At 4 am, since I couldn't sleep anyway I scrolled my phone and the doorbell camera notified me someone was there. 4 FREAKING AM. Child Protective Services. I recounted the story again. Showed them everyones rooms. Woke the kids up. Got interviewed separately from Taylor.

almost one year

September 19, 2019

In 9 days it will have been one year since Holland died. Nothing has changed. nothing. I'm still just as confused, just as sad, just as stuck. I really hoped I'd be running some sort of foundation for SIDS babies or making a difference somehow but I'm not. I'm still just stuck. This makes me sad. It makes me sad its been an entire year but somehow .....we're all just the same. Kids are still hurting, marriage still hurting, individually still hurting. I guess that is normal. I guess I'm not as strong as I thought I was. I guess nothing is quite okay. Is anything ever okay? Is that a universal truth that things should be okay? Who knows? How am I 32 years old and I don't know what is normal and what is okay? ...........
....................................
Its been almost a year. Its been a fucking year.......... that is not okay. its not okay. I haven't felt her soul, felt her laugh, felt her touch in almost a year. She was my baby, my youngest, my most miracle birthing experience.. my home.. my joy. I didn't do her enough justice while she was here because I was so busy moving and so busy. SO BUSY. how am i still feeling like I'm always so busy when I know what "SO BUSY" does? "So busy" takes away from what really matters. So busy takes away from moments, feelings, nourishing, loving, experiencing.
fuck so busy honestly.

youre never too busy for your kids. never. it makes me sick to think about.
it makes me sick to think about how literally nothing has changed although i know these truths. i still get too busy. tucker is so sensitive. quinn is so desperate for attention bc when teagan's not getting it, tucker is, when they are, shes not. is this just mom guilt? is this just how it goes? i always feel guilt in some sort of way; i'm always shorting someone. Quinn quoted me the other day and I was kind of proud... I don't have enough of me to go around so I often say, "I'm not an octopus, I only have 2 arms" LOL. so now she says it.


I'm still just confused on how I've buried my baby. How its been a year since I've done so. The strength most people witnessed and mentioned was just a form of shock I was in. I am not strong...I'm actually very, very weak. I succumb to just about every form of temptation or challenge. I wanted to be stronger by now. I wanted to be someone to follow. I wanted to be an inspiration but I'm not. I'm not any form of inspirational. I'm just weak. I'm sad. I want better but I am stuck. I don't know if losing my dad has attributed to the stuck-ness....I'm not sure if its just because I'm a weak bitch. I am not sure. I really wanted to do better in Holland's name, in my name, in my living kids' names...but I am not there.

I just don't know.. I'm trying. I am trying. I promise I'm trying. So hard. I am failing. I wish I weren't but I am...

I guess I just keep trying. Just keep trying. Claw my happy ass to the surface as far as I can.

I just wish I knew what was normal. What means I'm failing? What means I'm winning? What means anything?! I guess its subjective. For myself, I am failing. My kids are mostly happy. Thriving. Okay. I just don't know. Why do I feel like I am just stuck? AM I THE PROBLEM? I'm a mother afterall even if I am the problem.........................a mother doesn't just forget. not after you've seen what i have. Praying has gotten easier at least.