Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Murphy's Effing Law

Grief is such a screwed up process. That's the really crazy thing - we thought we were riding a roller coaster in the NICU. That was a kiddie ride compared to this. One minute I can be laughing at something lets say my dog is doing and the next I'm sobbing my heart out.

That's pretty much what happened this morning. I was sitting in bed, watching the Office for the millionth time since that seems to be all I want to do lately, when Dan came in. He had just gotten off the phone with the mortuary and there was a little problem. Last week we had planned to gather all of the stuff we wanted with her when she was cremated and picked out a little outfit for her to wear along with stuffed animals and letters we wanted with her. We were planning on dropping all of this stuff off today along with the urn and memorial necklace we had ordered. Story of my life, the plans did not fall into place and the mortuary had "accidentally" already performed the cremation. I lost it. It was just too much. After everything we have been through and all the loss of control we have felt over the last two months, this was just the last fucking straw. We can't even control how we would like her buried. And now it's too late. It's already done. Can't go back in time on this one. It's final. It tears me up inside. So long story short, Dan and I have decided to bring everything to the burial and drop it in the grave. It's not ideal but we don't have any other choice.

The obituary ran in the paper today too. That's another surreal experience. Writing an obituary for your child is one thing but seeing it in print is another. Here is a link, if anyone is interested in reading it.

I just want to take this opportunity to, again, thank everyone for their following and support during this awful journey. It is all appreciated. Our baby was a beautiful miracle and it is truly amazing how much love she has given us in her short little life.

Love to you all


  1. Oh Jamie! Oh, I cannot believe that happened. I am SO sorry. The obit was beautiful and I know your angel is looking down at you, smiling. May your healing begin as you travel down this devastating road. Know you are never alone, dear.

  2. Jamie, I'm so sorry. There are no words, just know you are in my thoughts.

  3. Jamie,

    If I were closer, I'd totally be there for the memorial service. It would totally weird you out, but I'd give you a big hug and bottle of wine. Instead, I send my hugs from texas. A little less wierd this way... Since I'm a stranger and all. If you need anything, I urge you to make the request. We are all grieving with you, and nothing would make us feel better than to do something for you. Love and prayers.

  4. Still thinking of you and your family, and checking in here from time to time. Just know, you still have an audience thinking of you. So if you ever feel like writing...we are here.