Saturday, December 10, 2011

Where were you?

“Imagine a love so strong that saying hello and good-bye in the same day is worth all the sorrow.”

Where were you the day you were told your child would die? It sounds crazy but an unfortunate reality for many parents, some of which you might not even realize. If you have 3 or more children, imagine taking the 3rd child and completely erasing them from your family. The thought seems unimaginable. It sucks but we live with that every single day.

Most people have a significant event or day that defines who they are or how they continue their lives. December 11, 2009 was that day for us, D-Day (diagnosis day) in the baby loss community. Two years ago today, Greg and I woke up carefree parents, anticipating an ultrasound. We were going to see our little baby and confirm what we already knew, there was a life growing inside of me. We walked out of the doctor office completely changed. That little life growing inside of me changed how I viewed the world, my life and those around me. Every decision, every event and every milestone from that day on, somehow relates back to the instant we found out that our sweet baby was given a zero percent chance of survival.

There is nothing I would love more than to return to December 11, 2009 and change the outcome and view this as someone else's reality. I know I cannot do that. With that being said, I would walk this road all over again, just to have her as part of my life. Olivia's life is a constant reminder that this world is only temporary. Because of her I can look forward with anticipation, knowing the pain of this world is worth spending forever in His glory.

Tuesday, December 6, 2011


I was on the anencephaly group and one mother posted a poem that she had written. I do not know her but Tammy Hajdo, thank you for sharing this!

All I want for Christmas

"What do you want for Christmas?"
you ask me with a smile.
You don't really want to know.
I can see you're in denial.

"What do you want for Christmas?"
you ask me one more time.
There isn't anything I want.
Nothing will make me feel fine!

"What do you want for Christmas?"
Do you really want to know?...
I want my daughter here.
I want to watch her play in the snow.

"What do you want for Christmas?"
I can't believe you've asked again.
Ok. Hold onto your socks,
Here's my list. You want a pen?

I want my daughter here
in my arms where she belongs.
I want to hear her laugh and giggle
while I sing her favorite song.

I want to feel her arms hug me tight
while I kiss her sweet little head.
I want to smell her babyness, touch her hair,
and tuck her into bed.

I want to watch her sleep, watch her grow,
and hold her tight.
I want to hear her call me mommy
in the middle of the night.

I want to see my daughter's smile
and the twinkle in her eyes.
So you see there is nothing you could get me,
nothing that you could buy.

Please don't continue asking
for my answer will never change.
All I want for Christmas
is what Santa cannot bring!

written by Tammy Hajdo, mother to Jessica Marie