emma's talk

*I just found this in my drafts but want to publish it, even though it is now 6 months later...

Spencer will forever claim that the best Sunday of the year is the Primary Program Sunday.

Emma was asked to give a talk on forever families last October, for the primary program. She did fabulous, of course. Here it is:

Nine years ago my mom and dad got married in the temple.They were sealed, which means that we will all be together forever.  I was born, and then Tyler. My baby sister Macie died right before she was supposed to be born. It was really sad. But it would have been more sad if we didn’t know about Heavenly Father’s Plan of Salvation.We had lots of talks about how we will all be together again someday.

On the drive to the cemetery on the day of the funeral I started singing “My Life is a Gift.” Everyone in the car started crying. Our lives do have a purpose and began in heaven. I will live there again, with my entire family, including Macie.

I’m grateful that we can have families and be sealed to them in the temple. One day I will be married in the temple too.

The chapel was silent. I don't think I've had a prouder moment.

I know there is a hole in Emma's heart, longing for that little sister.  She told me a few weeks ago that it's ok if she doesn't have a baby sister...but then she asked for a fish instead. I love that girl of mine.

2

I can't fathom the fact that I should have a sweet little girl turning 2 today.

So, instead of being all sad, I decided to write about Sandy. I don't think I have mentioned on this blog the little "tender mercy" we experienced with regard to her.

But let me start at the beginning. On that warm October day just two years ago was when we met Sandy. She is a baby nurse at the hospital. The charge nurse had come and told her there was a fetal demise and that she needed to go to the operating room. She didn't want to; who would want to?! But she did. I remember when she brought Macie to me after I was in a recovery room. She held her small body with such care and love. She told me her weight and her length and, crying, handed her to me as if she were a squirming, living newborn. Right before I was discharged from the hospital she told me she wanted to see me back there at some point in the future.

Well, 2 weeks before Tanner was born, as I quietly lay in the hospital room during a non-stress test, loving every second of hearing his heartbeat, Sandy walked into the room. I was surprised to see her and she quickly asked if I remembered her. Of course I did!  She started crying (as did I) as she told me how glad she was to see me back. She told me she had been waiting for me to come back and would periodically look for my name in the patient files. We were both excited to find out she would be the baby nurse on call on July 15th, the day of my scheduled c-section.

Then Sandy wanted to talk about Macie. The tears got bigger as she said she remembered that day so clearly. She even told me just last week that she will never forget that day, and that she remembers it like it was yesterday.
She said, "Giving her to you was one of the hardest things I have ever done. But taking her back from you was harder."

Sandy then told me that after we gave Macie back to her that afternoon, she sat down on a chair in another room and cried. She cried that such bad things had to happen to such nice people. I'm sure I would have done the same thing. But Spencer and I were in another room, together, experiencing little miracles, miracles that somehow got us through the trial.

Sandy has become an angel in our lives. I was blessed to have her with me when Tanner was born. She let me lean on her as the spinal was injected into my back. She sat next to me and constantly asked how I was feeling. When Spencer and I heard Tanner's cry we both choked back tears. Tears of relief. Tears of gratitude. Tears that clearly said He's alive. Sandy got him and instantly brought him over to show me before cleaning him off. She made sure I knew he was perfect, to calm my fears. She took him (and Spencer) to the recovery room to wait for me. When I finally got to recovery I got to watch her, once again, hold my precious child with such care. This time it was Tanner that she bathed and handed to me. Once again I was so grateful for her kindness and sensitivity.  I know it helped her to see us come full circle. She will forever have a special place in my heart, as the angel who watched over two of my angels.

So today, we are celebrating the short life of our little daughter/sister. Spencer is taking the day off. We will throw her a bday party, send her some balloons, and all hug each other (and especially little Tanner) a little tighter. What a blessing she is to our family, and to some otherwise complete strangers.

Half a year

I feel like I should acknowledge that today marks 6 months since we lost Macie. One part of me can't believe the time has gone that fast, and the other part of me feels like it's been forever (or, least, much longer than 6 months). Last Sunday was the first Sunday we missed visiting the cemetery. We didn't mean to not go. We simply forgot. While I felt terrible, I realize that this is part of our healing. I don't feel the need to go every single week anymore, and we were busy with cooking for lots of people (13 to be exact), so it slipped my mind. I think we'll still try to go weekly, but I'm not going to feel guilty when we can't. We went today and cleaned off her headstone. I sat next to it while the kids ran around. I thought about her for a long time, mostly wondering what she would look like.

I keep thinking of how Macie affected so many people, the nurses in particular. She touched the mortuary lady so much (the one who took care of our arrangements, and dressed her in her blessing-turned-burial dress). The lady (Becky?) made a point to tell one of my friends just how strongly she felt like our little girl was an angel. She dressed her, put her bow in, and then sat and held her and cried. She couldn't leave. I don't know for how long, but the thought of that still makes me weepy.

I love that Macie's aunt Kristina went to great lengths to make sure we'd have some beautiful white hair bows in time for the funeral. I love that she sent FOUR of them so we could choose. I love that Macie had lots of dark hair - definitely enough hair to wear a bow in it. I love that Emma sometimes puts one of the other three in her own hair.

I love that my mom made her a beautiful pink quilt, and it ended up covering her casket at the funeral. At first I wanted to box it up and put it away to save, but Emma really likes having it out. And I do too. As I went to check on her in bed last night, this is what I saw. It tugged at my heart.

It makes me smile when I see helium balloons. If my kids get their hands on one, watch out, because in less than 10 seconds they'll be sending it to their sister in heaven, yelling to her that they're sending her a balloon for her and her friends. (Thank you, Trader Joe's, for the free balloons.)

I cry when I remember our long drive to the cemetery for the funeral, which was the saddest and most peaceful day of my life. While I went to mourn the loss of one daughter, my other daughter sang Primary songs (unprompted) to us the entire drive. One in particular I remember - "My Life is a Gift." It sure is.

I often wonder what milestones she'd be hitting about now. Would she like her rice cereal? Would she have teeth yet? What color are her eyes? What is she doing now? I guess that's all up to the imagination.