I recently came across a blog called Sufficient Grace Ministries, is a place dedicated to supporting , encouraging and walking alongside women who have lost a child. I have found it a place where I can delve into the words of others who really understand, who know my heart.
They have a place on this blog called Walking with Grace, where others get to share stories, memories and moments of their journeys. This time we are asked to share the early days of our journey.
Here is my story, my early days…
I can remember the day like I was yesterday. Everything was planned, we were going to an ice skating competition with our daughter Eden. Livvy was well, it hadn’t crossed our mind as we awoke that morning that this day would be the worst day of our lives.
It was so early 4am in the morning, my parents had drove over to care for Kennedy, Livvy and Brodie while we were gone. All was fine but I just couldn’t leave without my kisses, it was going to be a long day I needed my kisses off my girls.
I entered Livvys room opened the doors to her bed and kissed her, she was so still, so very still.
To be honest from here on its becomes a blur I remember screaming for Alan and that we started CPR and an ambulance was called. The paramedics were working on her and quickly loaded her up into the ambulance. I couldn’t breathe, it all felt like some crazy nightmare that I was desperate to wake up from.
The journey down to the hospital felt like it was forever, I just wanted to get there and hold my baby. Alan had travelled in the ambulance but I hadn’t been allowed so my stepfather drove me.
Ushered into a small room i just sat there holding Alan’s hand for dear life, praying so hard. Please please God save my baby, save my precious daughter.
As the Doctor walked in to that room the look on her face was enough, “I’m so sorry.”
I think I screamed, I think I begged, I know I fell apart.
My baby she was only nine, she hadn’t been poorly, she had been ill before but the drs had always saved her. Please save her again.
It wasn’t to be, as I entered the room where she lay I didn’t want to believe she had gone, she looked so peaceful so happy. It was this peacefulness that brought me an inch of comfort, you see her illness had robbed her of complete peace all her life, Rett syndrome the monster.
I stroked her curly blond hair, I couldn’t get over the smile on her face. She looked so happy. I’ve offered wondered at this, knowing as I do that she is with Jesus the joy she must have felt as she walked towards our saviour. Was this the reason for that smile?
The longer I sat there the calmer I began to feel,in was the numbness, the shock hitting my soul. My heart broke there and then a piece missing never to be complete again in this lifetime.
My mind started wandering to her sisters, I had left them at home with my mom, what did they know?How were they coping? I was torn between two places being there with Livvy or going home to her sisters.
The dr then told us we had to leave, although Livvy had this evil syndrome her death was unexpected, tests had to be run.
I had to go, I had to leave. It took all I had to walk away, not knowing when I would see her again. Eternity seemed too far away.
I think I switched off more and more with each step as I walked away from Livvy. Part of my soul was dying, the old me slipping away never to be found again. I was a grieving mother, I had lost a child. Could I ever come back from this? Would I survive it?
The next days seem to just melt into moments and falling tears. I just held on to my girls for dear life, didn’t want them to leave my side. Throwing myself into research on the best way to help children face loss. I had to save their souls, they were to young to face such pain, to young to lose hope.
I needed to show them that Livvy wanted them to laugh, to love. To hold on to our precious memories and to smile at the blessing Livvy had been to our life. Reassure them that she was safe in Jesus’ arms.
Livvy had shown so much courage in her short life, I only prayed I could show a little myself.
Three years on its still raw, maybe I didn’t allow the emotions out then, maybe it’s the way it is.
I’m confused at the theory behind the five stages of grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. I have days of each of those, today it’s acceptance, tomorrow it may be anger. It’s a journey I never planned a life I never chose.
I hold on to the promise of eternity and to Jesus’ words. That’s my tool for survival.
It’s simply one moment at a time. Walking in his grace.