Tomorrow will be four years since Isabella passed away. Four years. So much has happened since then. She has a sister now (and another sibling on the way), a little cousin, and larger extended family then she'll ever know. And it still hurts even now. It hurts less, but still hurts. In honor of her beautiful life here's the post I wrote the day after she died.
Sunday evening at 5:45 my beautiful niece, Isabella Brooklyn, gave up her courageous fight to live and took her final breath in her mommy's arms. What a determined little baby she was; she only lived thirty four days, but in those thirty four days she touched more lives and more people fell in love with her than most people can hope for in a lifetime.
I don't really know what to type or what to tell about her life and her fight this past week, but I take comfort in knowing that she's not in pain or hooked up to any machines now. And I take comfort knowing that it's raining outside so that the world matches my insides. That was the hardest part leaving the hospital on Sunday: seeing that the world was still turning and that the hundreds of people that we passed on the interstate or at Wal-Mart didn't know they should be sad and mourning for this little life that ended too soon. That all these people could still be laughing and breathing without pain confused me; that they never got to meet my little baby with her wild red hair that looked exactly like mine or that they never got to see her crazy thumbs that bent out the wrong way made me mad. I want the world to be sad right now for my little Isabella. And I want the world to know what they missed out by never meeting or holding that little baby.
Isabella only had thirty four days to live and breath and she made more of a difference in those short days than I have in all my twenty four years of life. And so tonight because of her, I want to be sad. And in the morning, I want to start living like I was supposed to be living all along, it just took a little 6 lb. baby and her short life for me to figure it out. But for now, just bring on the rain.
Love you always Isabella,
Aunt Mary
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
crafty is a synonym for cheap
Before
After
Elliott's "big girl" room is, for the most part, done. I just need to put more stuff up on the walls to tone down the green a bit. I bought three frames at the best Salvation Army in town (don't ask, because I'm not sharing it with anyone) for $6. Then I spray painted them white and bought some cute fabrics that matched her room at JoAnn's for $7...and there you have it.
P.S. They look better in person, but you get the idea.
Monday, June 21, 2010
a list
Things Elliott CAN Do
-count to ten
-name animals and make their sounds (meowwww!)
-buckle and unbuckle...uh, um, buckles
-open childproof medicine bottles (don't ask)
-clean up her toys
-sing annoying nursey rhymes
-play "Ring Around the Rosy" repeatedly
Things Elliott CAN NOT Do
-WALK
And that, my friends, is super annoying. She's currently be evaluated by First Steps to see if she needs physical therapy or "assistance" in learning to walk. Now I know this is going to sound like I'm in denial, but I really think she's going to walk when she wants to. She LOVES to walk if she's holding your hand; I just think she is over-thinking this walking business. Personally, I think she's too smart for her own good. And that's not a proud mama talking, that's a stubborn person telling you another stubborn person isn't going to do anything you want her to. She'll do it when she's ready. So if everyone could just back the F up that would be great.
-count to ten
-name animals and make their sounds (meowwww!)
-buckle and unbuckle...uh, um, buckles
-open childproof medicine bottles (don't ask)
-clean up her toys
-sing annoying nursey rhymes
-play "Ring Around the Rosy" repeatedly
Things Elliott CAN NOT Do
-WALK
And that, my friends, is super annoying. She's currently be evaluated by First Steps to see if she needs physical therapy or "assistance" in learning to walk. Now I know this is going to sound like I'm in denial, but I really think she's going to walk when she wants to. She LOVES to walk if she's holding your hand; I just think she is over-thinking this walking business. Personally, I think she's too smart for her own good. And that's not a proud mama talking, that's a stubborn person telling you another stubborn person isn't going to do anything you want her to. She'll do it when she's ready. So if everyone could just back the F up that would be great.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Why people don't hang out with us anymore.
Scene 1: O'Charley's Lobby
We're waiting to be seated for Father's Day dinner with Gary. Old man with tight shirt tucked in to tight shorts and a belt enters. We make fun of him and then are seated.
Scene 2: The Table
As we're finishing dinner, I notice my daughter has pooped. And by "notice" I mean see it smeared all over the highchair she is sitting in. I immediately freak out. I grab some napkins and in one fluid motion Chris picks Elliott up, I cover her in napkins and he runs off to the men's bathroom. I spend thirty seconds wiping poop off the highchair hoping no one is throwing up their dinner because of us and then follow them.
Scene 3: The Men's Bathroom
I knock on the door and no one else is in there so I go in. Chris, Elliott, and I are locked in the only stall with Elliott spread-eagle on the changing table while I try to clean up her poop-plosion. The cute white shorts she was wearing were a casualty and had to be tossed. We get everything under control as someone (a man, obviously) comes into the bathroom. Elliott takes this opportunity to start saying "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy..." and since I can't talk I whisper to Chris to talk to her. Which backfires because Murphy's Law says when it's really important not to laugh, you will find the most things to laugh at. So Chris is trying to talk to Elliott, trying to stop laughing, and trying to whisper in my ear to tell me about the world's longest pee-er next to us. But his whispering in my ear turns into nothing but hot breath and "huu huu huu huu" because he can't get it together.
So now Elliott's all cleaned up and we're just waiting for Austin Powers to leave so I can sneak out of the men's bathroom. Well, no sooner does that guy leave then the white Steve Uerkle from the lobby come in. He pees and then procedes to wash his hands (good boy!) and use fifteen paper towels to dry them. Ooh, and O'Charley's has the paper towel dispenser where you put your hand in front of it and it gives you one towel then it resets and then you can get another one. So drying his hands took about three minutes.
He finally leaves and we dash out of the stall. I'm heading for the women's restroom so I can wash my hands and Chris is taking Elliott back to the table. As I hurry out the door, the old man turns around and we make eye contact just as I'm in the men's bathroom doorway. I freeze because I know he thinks I just watched him pee and then dash to the other bathroom. I take my time washing my hands and when I leave the guys gone. I know he thinks I'm a perv. And if we weren't in Greenfield, this title might have bothered me.
We're waiting to be seated for Father's Day dinner with Gary. Old man with tight shirt tucked in to tight shorts and a belt enters. We make fun of him and then are seated.
Scene 2: The Table
As we're finishing dinner, I notice my daughter has pooped. And by "notice" I mean see it smeared all over the highchair she is sitting in. I immediately freak out. I grab some napkins and in one fluid motion Chris picks Elliott up, I cover her in napkins and he runs off to the men's bathroom. I spend thirty seconds wiping poop off the highchair hoping no one is throwing up their dinner because of us and then follow them.
Scene 3: The Men's Bathroom
I knock on the door and no one else is in there so I go in. Chris, Elliott, and I are locked in the only stall with Elliott spread-eagle on the changing table while I try to clean up her poop-plosion. The cute white shorts she was wearing were a casualty and had to be tossed. We get everything under control as someone (a man, obviously) comes into the bathroom. Elliott takes this opportunity to start saying "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy..." and since I can't talk I whisper to Chris to talk to her. Which backfires because Murphy's Law says when it's really important not to laugh, you will find the most things to laugh at. So Chris is trying to talk to Elliott, trying to stop laughing, and trying to whisper in my ear to tell me about the world's longest pee-er next to us. But his whispering in my ear turns into nothing but hot breath and "huu huu huu huu" because he can't get it together.
So now Elliott's all cleaned up and we're just waiting for Austin Powers to leave so I can sneak out of the men's bathroom. Well, no sooner does that guy leave then the white Steve Uerkle from the lobby come in. He pees and then procedes to wash his hands (good boy!) and use fifteen paper towels to dry them. Ooh, and O'Charley's has the paper towel dispenser where you put your hand in front of it and it gives you one towel then it resets and then you can get another one. So drying his hands took about three minutes.
He finally leaves and we dash out of the stall. I'm heading for the women's restroom so I can wash my hands and Chris is taking Elliott back to the table. As I hurry out the door, the old man turns around and we make eye contact just as I'm in the men's bathroom doorway. I freeze because I know he thinks I just watched him pee and then dash to the other bathroom. I take my time washing my hands and when I leave the guys gone. I know he thinks I'm a perv. And if we weren't in Greenfield, this title might have bothered me.
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