Help.

Before I had my own children I rarely heard about complicated births.  Although I heard about an occasional horror story about a baby who came close to dying, there was usually a miraculous recovery.  And if by some sad chance the baby did not make it, I did not know him or her or the family personally.  There was always a safe distance between my heart and the realities of new life.  I heard tales of mothers having difficult labors that lasted for 24 hours or more but I knew nothing about premature babies, let alone babies that were born under 5 lbs.  And I never heard much about infertility until we started thinking about having children ourselves.  But as I think of it, there was always that one couple, surely you knew people just like them, who never were able to have their own children.  They were always the nicest couple in my extended family or ward.  He was the scoutmaster, or something similar, and she was the favorite young women's adviser.  Everyone wondered why they did not have kids yet but they never talked about it - at least not openly.

Fast forward to my life now and I find myself thinking about that certain couple a lot.  Although I do not know their exact thoughts, I think that surely that I can guess their hearts at one point or another.  I ache with them as I see them look at other families in their neighborhood and ward.  I feel their longing and their emptiness at not being able to share in what brings other people so much happiness and contentment.  To say that they are jealous of what they see, and what they so desperately want, is not completely true.  Yes, they long for what others have and at times they wish other people were in their shoes so that they could feel solidarity in their heartache.  But mostly they just want to be part of the club.  They want to be up all night, wear spit up on their clothes, and wrap their little ones in cozy blankets.  They cry when they hear that a new baby is on its way partly because they wish for such happy news themselves, but mostly because they want their children to grow up with yours.  They want to be in your playgroup.  They want to join your carpool and they do not want to miss out on making memories with people that they care about.  They do not want to be left behind.

Two years ago, I felt like we were becoming "that other couple."  The couple that someone knew who was related to someone else or was a friend of a friend of someone who had gone through something tragic.

And I did not welcome this title gladly.

In fact, sometimes I think about my thoughts or my words through that difficult time in my life and I am surprised at how I fought events that were completely out my control with such vehemence.  But I had become part of an equation that was never supposed to be in my life.  Up until that point, I knew of people who struggled and they did it so heroically and so effortlessly.  They smiled in public, they said all of the right things, and they still participated in life.  They showed up and they played the game.  But when it was my turn and after I had buried my firstborn, I found that I did not always want to play.

Now, four years after becoming a mother, I am all too aware of what really happens when babies are born.  What really happens is that more often than not there seems to be that one moment when something could or does go wrong.  That instance when heart rates plummet or blood pressures sky rocket.  When a doctor is just out of reach or a head is too big.  There are so many incongruities in the process that, up until I had Henry, I thought to be perfect.  Now that I know what I know, I know that each baby has its own story.  And it might be different from anything that you have ever heard before.

Being the mother of an angel baby and of a former preemie brings its fair share of burdens.  If you have followed this blog a lot or even just a little you are familiar with our journey.  But our experiences with our children and having been "that couple" for two years also brings awareness.  In the years that have past since Henry's death we have learned of so many other angels.  So many other beautiful children that are gone and who will always be remembered by their loving families.  We have received midnight phone calls about mothers in difficult labors or babies that were too early and have needed a little extra help.  And we have been asked for advice from loved ones who are looking for the best possible way to be helpful to someone they care about who is in crisis.

With these thoughts in mind, I have created a new page on this blog, "Coping with Loss: Some Unsolicited Advice."  Here you will find some ideas on how to help someone, including yourself if that is your circumstance, to feel loved during a hard time.  Chances are that you will know someone (or know someone who knows someone) who has suffered a neonatal or infant loss, a miscarriage, had a premature baby, or is coping with infertility.  Any or all of these events are highly traumatic and any support that you could offer to a couple or individual who is going through one or any other number of these situations would likely be greatly appreciated.  Please keep in mind that the sufferings of bereft parents will be individual because their trial, much like their child, is unique.  And their grief or coping processes will be as well.  But hopefully our little page will help generate a few ideas on how to care for someone, or for yourself, if they or you are grieving.

I invite you to look at our ideas and I welcome your feedback.  If you have anything that you would like to add to our list, please leave a comment or contact me by email to let me know.  We would like to make this an open forum and a safe place for grieving parents and people who care for them.  With your help, we can assist people who need a little extra support through difficult times.  Life is hard and it can also be unfair, but a little bit of love goes a long way.

"And whose receiveth you, there I will be also, for I will go before your face.  I will be on your right and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up." Doctrine & Covenants 84:88

Hitch-Hill

It was a proud day when Rob and I realized that at certain angles, Eddie looks like a cross between two of Britain's finest...

"Don't bother me...I'm thinking."

...Winston Churchill and Alfred Hitchcock.

Seven.

Seven years ago today Rob and I were married for time and all eternity in the Salt Lake temple.  

I knew on that day that I was making the right decision.  There was no doubt in my mind that not only would Rob would be an incredible husband, but that we would be immensely happy together.  Growing up in my church, I was taught about the importance of marrying in the temple so that my family could sealed and bound together so that death could never separate us.  I always knew that this was a true and important principle but I never could have known how soon the blessings of eternity would bless our little family and impact my life.  Thanks to the decision that we made to be married in that sacred and special place, we will be Mr. and Mrs. Rob Koelliker forever.  What is more, thanks to that wonderful fall day, we will always have our Eddie, and someday, we will be reunited with our Henry.  My heart swells with emotion when I think of everything that November 10, 2005 gave me, because it gave me everything.

What a blessing it has been to be Rob's wife, his friend, and the mother of his children.  I look back at our years and experiences with a joyful heart and as I look to our future I only see more reasons to smile.  And on this happy day of celebration and reflection I cannot help but cheer.  

Rob, here is to our past, our present, and all of the millions more inside jokes that we will share in the next seven years and beyond.  

I cannot wait.