december seventeenth

I had a feeling that Eisley’s due date could be overwhelming so we decided to do some really meaningful things to help get through the day. Ted wasn’t able to take the day off, which was hard for both of us. We were able to still do some things but are planning on doing a few significant things on his days off. 

I’m having a hard time finding the words to describe Friday… instead, here are a few photos to describe a few significant things we did to honour and remember our Eisley girl. It’s not everything, but it describes a bit of our day.

I will be sharing the {full} meaning behind my tattoo, besides the obvious, on the next blog post.

We were beyond blessed by you on Friday. I couldn’t believe the outpour of love we felt and saw. Messages, emails, tweets, texts, calls, flowers, edible arrangments, ornaments, significant gifts, etc. THANK YOU.

 You truly “held” up our arms. We felt it, we saw it. We love you dearly!

Remembering vs. Reminders

When we had our first appointment where Dr. H confirmed we were indeed pregnant, we learned our “surprise baby’s” due date but made plans to have her a bit earlier, due to the fact that I had a c-section with Chase only months before. So we chose a date; December 10, 2010.

I hadn’t expected yesterday to be so hard for me and had honestly tried to just see it as just another date on the calendar. Not because I was in denial but because of the fact that since everything hadn’t gone perfectly or smoothly from the beginning of our pregnancy, the c-section scheduled for December 10th was never officially set in stone and then once things progressively got worse, we let it go all together. I didn’t think it would hit me so hard, but Thursday night as we went to bed, Iwept as Ted and I talked about how if everything had gone well we would probably have a hard time sleeping that night, due to the anticipation of the arrival of our daughter. If everything had gone smoothly, we would be celebrating.

I woke throughout the night Thursday night with this heavy on my heart. “If everything had gone perfectly, smoothly…” IF. But it hadn’t. We held her and said our earthly goodbyes just 3 months earlier. The very day of her due date will mark 3 months exactly.

The reminders that she is gone are so heavy right now and we’re in the thick of it as her actual due date nears.

They are wearing me down. Let’s add to the reminders …my sensitivity and lies of the enemy. I am sensitive anyways, but now I feel even more so. I am so easily reminded of our loss whenever I’m online. I allow myself to get wounded/hurt by things other say even when they probably weren’t even thinking of me when they wrote “such and such”.  I try and remind myself that it’s probably unintentional to hurt me or that they aren’t trying to remind me of what they have and what I’ve lost but the lies of the enemy get me SO bad with this one.

I remember the day after we lost Eisley, I was in labor and I felt enough courage to write a blog so got online and while I was on the computer, I decided to update my status but just before I could, I read someone’s status that they had just written about the movements of their baby and how amazing it was. I wept. That was the first of many to come. I think if I told you of how often I do that, you would probably tell me to get off the social networks all together. I’ve realized and tried to come to terms with the fact that this is our reality and not everyone remembers what we have lost and what we’re walking through now, but sometimes I still take things so personally. {This is my reality} and I try to keep that in mind when I read or hear things but honestly, right now I feel like it’s slapping me across the face. I am in a constant battle against trying to remember the beautiful time I had with my girl versus the reminders that she is gone, the reminders of what we’ve lost.

As you can see, our loss has made me more sensitive in negative ways ….but also in some really positive ways as well. I now feel more aware of those around me and where they are at and I try and stay sensitive to them.

I really think a lot of my sensitivity also boils down to grief. I guess I am here to ask you to please pray for us? Her due date is the 17th and if yesterday was so hard, I really can’t imagine what next friday will be like. We have some significant things planned and one of my dear friends who I haven’t seen in over two years will be in town.

Thank you for all of your love and support and for helping me walk through this. I sometimes hop on my blog {just} to read the comments you have written to me over the past few months. I am encouraged and blessed by you continually. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Much love,


Long before she existed…

One of my best friends drove up to visit me last week. We talked about memory she had of when I first told her of Eisley’s name. It was in the little apartment that we shared. I wasn’t even married to Ted yet, but here we were talking about Eisley. Obviously she didn’t exist yet but her name and what it meant to me did. The dreams I had for my little Eisley-girl did. I’ve been dreaming of having my little E long before she existed. Chey told me that when I shared Eisley’s name she thought to herself  “One day I’m going to get to meet that little girl.”  Such a precious memory that now we’ll hold very dear to our hearts.

Then 7ish years later, at our ‘Pink or Blue’ Party we screamed in delight as we found out we were having a little girl. Chey came to me and said to me, “Jam, your finally having your little Eisley!” As Chey and I talked about her, we both just sat crying bittersweet tears. Even though it wasn’t the way I had dreamt it would be, I did indeed have my sweet little Eisley and she’s changed my life forever.

Whenever I dreamt of having my first little girl, my sweet Eisley, I never once imagined losing her. When I dreamt of Eisley, I imagined a little dark haired girl with big brown eyes looking up at me, with her hand in mine. Never once imagined that would actually never happen.

I didn’t actually want to write a blog that was morbid or depressing, because in this moment, I feel so overwhelmed with how blessed I was (and am) to have had my little Eisley. My sweet little girl. Long before she exisited I dreamt of her, I feel like I’ve known her for years.

This is obviously not what I had expected, or dreamt of… yet tonight I sit with a full and thankful heart to have such precious memouries despite how short her time with us was;

  •  the first time I “named her” back when I was just 16-years-old
  • Ted choosing Antalya as her middle name, meaning “beautiful” and “break of day” long before she existed (September 08)
  •  finding out I was pregnant with our “surprise baby” 7 years after picking out her first name
  • the first time I felt her movements within
  • the first time Ted and I (at the same time) felt her movements from the outside.
  • the moment we cut the cake and found out she was indeed our little Eisley ( I feel like I knew the whole time ), to the first time I called her by name and how amazing that felt. My Eisley was here at last.
  • recognizing how perfect and fitting her name really was for her
  • her reacting to my voice when I sang “you are my sunshine” or the song I sang over her throughout our days in the hospital
  • the one day that her heart rate read “143” on the monitor, over and over again. This might seem so little and silly, but this actually was much more than a coincidence for me. “143” was Ted’s way of telling me he loved me before he said “I love you” to me. He always wrote me little stickey notes and put them on my desk at work, or in random things of mine. When I saw her heart kept beating at a rate of 143. I just started crying. She knew her mommy and loved me so. I know that with everything in me.
  • getting to see our baby girl so frequently throughout our pregnancy with her via ultrasounds. We {cherish} those memories so much. Our only time we got to “see” our sweet Eisley, alive and full of movements.
  • the night before she passed away, when Ted talked to her and she reacted to his voice. As if she was saying goodbye. (makes me cry even now.)
  • Even though the time in the hospital was so difficult, I was truly never alone. I got so much alone time with my sweet girl. I often thought that if she would have made it, the deep connection I already felt with her in my womb would have been incredibly strong outside of the womb.

There are little memories throughout that I will always hold dear to my heart. I am so thankful for such precious memories.

This week I was sorting through and organizing all of my crafty stuff and I found a scrapbook my mom had made (and I’m finishing) of when I was pregnant with Chase and everything I ever wrote/documented during that time. It’s incredible and so full. As I flipped through it, I thought to myself “Eisley will never have a scrapbook” but then immediately remembered all of the journal/blog entries I wrote while I was pregnant with her. I decided to put a scrapbook together of my Eisley-girl and our journey with her and how she’s impacted our lives.

I began it just a few days ago and I am already 8 pages in. I actually began with the blog posts/journal entries/letters I wrote after she passed away, which might sound morbid, but I was afraid to start with what I wrote when she was alive. I think it’s going to be incredibly hard to read everything again but this time, knowing she isn’t here with us.

I am putting “everything Eisley” into this album. I am putting my {whole heart} into it as well. If you come visit me, don’t be surprised if I pull it out to show you, so you can catch a snitbit of who Eisley was and is to us, to me. I have realized this week that there are so many memouries and SO many little things going into Eisley’s scrapbook even though she never made it outside of my womb. I am in awe of how many precious memouries we have.

Thank you Jesus for these precious memouries and dreams, even the ones long before she existed. Thank you for our sweet Eisley-girl.

Often & In Everything.

I talk about Eisley often.

If you were to come to the house, you’d see, I want to talk about her. I would bring her up randomly in our conversation and throughout your stay (or at least, I would want to.) I’d want to show you the her little foot imprints so you can actually get an idea of her size.

I would talk about her often, becasue I think about her so much.

Sometimes I wonder if something is wrong with me for wanting to talk about her as often as I do so I usually try and stifle the desire to talk about her with everyone. I wonder if something is wrong with me because a lot of what we’ve gone through with her was so shocking and traumatic and yet I want to talk about everything still. I want to talk about my time in the hospital, about when I found out I lost her, about the three days of labor and what I felt, about her birth, about coming home and what that felt like, etc.

As you’ve seen on here, I want to talk. I realized recently why that is.

For one, I am processing through everything and sometimes, I think I am trying so hard to make sense of something that never will. So I talk and write and talk and write.

But I feel like the main reason for wanting to talk about her so often is because I am afraid of losing the memouries of the time I had with her. I am afraid I will forget something. It’s already been one month since her birth and I am afraid of how fast time is flying past. I’m clinging tightly to the time I did have with her.

Even more than I talk about Eisley, I think about her. I think about what life would have been like with her here with us. And a lot of things make me think of her too.

Just in the past few days;

I thought about her when I was in Once Upon a Child and they had an entire section of cute little girly hair barretts and headbands. I thought about her when I was painting my nails timbleberry pink for a wedding and pictured myself painting her little nails too. I thought about her when I took Chase to the pumpkin patch where we took him last year and I thought “Eisley should here with us.” I thought about her when I saw my girlfriend’s 5-month-old daughter, Adylan and remembered how we had talked about Eisley and Adylan being friends. I think about her when I see my belly and sometimes I still catch my hand on my belly as if she were still there, which might sound weird, but when you are pregnant, I don’t think you realize how often you do that.  As we drove to our friend’s mountain wedding yesterday, Ted said “There should be two carseats in the back. There should be four of us going to the wedding.” …my heart broke. He thinks about her all of the time too.

Today, I thought about her when I saw this in the newspaper today so I put it in my journal;

I talk about and think of her often and I guess that is what I need right now. It’s hard to live life without her but I will always cherish the time I had with her and I hope to carry on her legacy and be inspired daily by her little life that touched mine so.



Today marks one month since the birth of Eisley. I can’t even believe it’s been one month…

Everything in me wishes I could be posting photos of my little girl from her one month photoshoot. Typically one month would be filled with learning every little thing we can about our daughter. Enjoying her every coo and facial expressions and of course sharing them with you.

Instead it’s been one month of inner turmoil, one month of the reality of the loss of our daughter sinking in with each day, one month of letting go of the dreams we had for our Eisley, etc.

This morning I noticed a tweet by a friend on mine. She noted that today is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Rememberance Day where we “remember all babies born sleeping or whom we carried but never met, or those we have held but couldn’t take home, or the ones that came home but didn’t stay. ”

Throughout our journey with Eisley, I’ve met or heard of many who’ve walked a similar road as me. One where we’ve lost a child. It breaks my heart that we have that in common. 

When I heard that today was Pregnancy and Infant Loss Rememberance Day, I wanted to write a post recognizing your loss if you’ve lost a child. And if you haven’t (and I pray you never will) to cherish your time with your babies (in the womb or out).

We’ll see you again soon little ones and until then we are holding that hope very near to our hearts.

I can’t imagine heaven’s lullabies
and what they must sound like
But I will {rest} in knowing, heaven is your home
And it’s all you’ll ever know…all you’ll ever know…

(Glory Baby  by Watermark)

Have you lost a little one? If you want to, please comment so I can be thinking of you. Much love mommas (& daddys).

I will remember, I will grieve.

The very moment they put Eisley in my arms, after they cleaned and dressed her, I felt a peace wash over me. For the first time in my life I felt the “peace that passes understanding”. I looked at my beautiful baby girl and just knew… it was right that she was with Him. It wasn’t because she looked ill or sick… she didn’t, in fact, to the naked human eye, she was perfect. Her hands, her fingers, her tiny finger nails, her feet, her toes, her little nose that looked like Chase’s and her lips that were shaped like mine but big like her daddy’s.

She was perfect. But I knew, she was meant to be with Him.

I can’t really explain it, but yesterday from the moment that I first held her to our final earthly goodbyes, I felt peace. She is whole and healthy with Him. She rests between His shoulders. She isn’t suffering, she isn’t fighting. It is what is best for her.

I thought her being here with us would be best for her and now I know it wasn’t.

Like so many people, I felt like Eisley was going to make it. I truly felt, deep inside, she was going to win this battle for her life. I did. I don’t have answers, and right now, I don’t feel like I need an answer. Right now, I just know, it is right that she is with Him but we are grieving that she isn’t with us.

Someday, maybe soon, I may question this. Right now, I feel the utmost peace, the kind which passes my understanding. The kind that says, this is truly difficult and I am filled with sorrow, but God I trust You and will rest in that.

The day I found out Eisley’s heart stopped beating, that her fight was done… I didn’t feel peace. I can’t really say what exactly I felt.

Today,I ache. I ache deep inside. When I cry, I keep literally reaching for my heart just wanting the pain that’s deep inside to just calm. The ache that feels almost physical, to stop.

I grieve as I sit here with this stillness in my womb. Silence. My body no longer holds my precious Eisley. She is no longer here with me on earth.

We are filled with grief and stricken with sorrow, we will be for months and years to come. I will always ache when September 14th rolls around each year, the day her little heart stopped fighting. I will still remember September 17th, the day of her birth, as bittersweet. I will still cry and wonder what life would be like with her when her due date, December 17th comes each year.

But even more than just those 3 dates, I will mourn and grieve maybe every day from here on out for a while. That’s okay and I know that. 

But I will also remember.

On April 26 I will remember with joy, the day that I found out we were pregnant with our little surprise baby. I will still remember rejoicing on August 8th at our ‘Pink or Blue party’ where we found our we were having a girl, our precious Eisley. I will remember feeling her little kicks and hiccups deep inside.I will remember the very first time I felt her kick from the outside, at the very same time her daddy felt too.  I will remember the ultrasounds where we watched her suck her thumb and stick her tongue out. I will remember the heart monitoring and hearing her swift heart beat, beat, beat to let me know she was okay.  I will remember the night before she passed, when she reacted to her daddy’s voice as he talked to my belly. I will remember her final kicks to me the morning she passed away, like she was saying goodbye to me. I will remember the day we finally gave birth to her, September 17th-  the perfect delivery of our beautiful baby girl and the peace that washed over Ted and I when we held her. I will remember how perfect her little nose, mouth, ears, toes, feet, fingers… how perfect and beautiful she was.

Our Eisley is with Him, which is really comforting, but we still ache and we will. We feel the loss of our daughter so strong right now.

And we will never, ever forget Eisley and her journey, her strength and the the legacy she left behind before even entering the world. We will never forget what we have learned as we were allowed to be her parents. She was a miracle baby is now safely in the arms of her Heavenly Daddy.

We will remember and we will grieve, but we will someday she her again.