12.19.13

View More: http://sherahgphotography.pass.us/anysia-bateman/ /
It has been one week. And I can’t quite even fathom how a whole week has passed. Days and weeks don’t really feel like measurements anymore, when all is a blur. I wasn’t sure when I would want to post her birth announcement, and sort of wanted to wait until I sent out the printed announcement to family and friends. But one week out on this difficult Thursday {I wonder why milestone days always hit us harder than the others}, those announcements haven’t even been printed yet, and I feel I want to put it out there anyway. She died the day she was born, and I still can’t really even wrap my head around that. It was a difficult scenario to accept when I was pregnant. I just kept thinking {the closer and closer the induction date approached},

how does one prepare for both a birth and a death on the same day?

It was also really hard to fathom the day of… so much so, that I tried not to even think about, and instead just chose to focus on the fact that I had any time with her at all. Gratitude overflowed in me for two days at the thought of having those six short hours with her. Many don’t get any time. And many have fewer than six hours. Some have more than what we had, but I’d never be anything but grateful to have had any time at all. I wish I had had more, because I’m struggling to remember her and the moments that we had together. {Thank God for photos and videos that will forever preserve those moments.}

But it’s mostly difficult here after… to get used to the idea that she left us the day she came to us. There is just nothing that seems right about that and NOTHING that can prepare you for it, even though there is some peace I’ve felt in the way everything unfolded. I honestly wish I could write more at this point… more about her birth story, or more about the days that led up to it. Or maybe more about the details, of which even the smallest of, I very much felt God’s hand upon. But I still can’t collect all my thoughts and memories. There are almost too many to organize into something that would be easy to read… even for me, having gone through it, to come back to and read some day. So I wait until it flows.

For now, I thought I’d just write down some random things that are heaviest on my mind… or taking up more real estate in my head at the moment. The things that I’ve been thinking throughout and up to this one-week mark. They won’t have any sort of chronological flow or sensible scheme. They are just the things I keep thinking about at any given moment or am constantly reminded of. Some thoughts are as new as within the last hour or so.

  • We just came back from Hobby Lobby where we were looking for some sort of a special box {in place of an ur|n} to put her ashes in. It was the saddest walk around a favorite store that I’ve ever taken, and probably always will be. I fought back tears for fear that the cashier would figure out what that tiny little box we were buying was for. For some reason, I wanted only the three of us who picked it out to ever know what it was for.
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  • I absolutely love the way her name looks… all three names all spelled out. Anysia Noel Bateman. I love what her names mean, and I hope to get to writing about that some day. But I equally love the way they all look together. I had never really seen them all together like that until they handed us the birth certificate paper work at the hospital. The way her name reads is just as pretty as she is, which brings me joy for some reason… as if her name was chosen before I even knew of her.
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  • That little Seuss quote on the announcement… I adore it. Mr. B. found it in some publication he came across his first day back to work between Anysia’s birth and Christmas Day. I thought it would be so sweet to add to the announcement, as at the time, it was so much how I felt… just so grateful that she existed at all and feeling so much peace that she was a part of my life in any way. Of course, I cry that her days were briefly numbered. But as I held her that day, there were many smiles, too. If I ever get around to posting some of the photos that a beautifully giving friend of mine took in the delivery room, that will be plenty evident.
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  • The days are getting harder. I pretty much guessed they would. When people ask how I am doing, I find myself sharing that the peace and gratitude I felt the day of and day after her death were so intense that they hardly left room for sadness… but now those seem to be taking a step aside to make way for tears and utter sorrow. Just this no-way-to-comfort, I’m-sure-I-need-to-feel-this, deep sadness.
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  • I was so afraid for the after-holiday exhale to hit. I did not want life to return to “normal”, because it just isn’t so for me, and I was afraid it would be for everyone else. I still fear that. I think the biggest reason I fear others forgetting about her is that it makes me think that I could too… and I never want to.
    …The reason blogging about her here is so important {and sometimes a lifeline} for me.
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  • I’ve caught myself many times feeling like life is very much like those first four months we lived here… before I got pregnant. And I hate it. It makes me feel like I’ve already forgotten. And that is where the “I wish I had had more time with her” thoughts creep in… because I can’t help but wonder if I would be more affected by her life {on a minute by minute level} if I had been able to spend more time getting to know her. It kills me to think that I could do anything around here {i.e., cleaning, or playing a new game with Izzy, or taking a nap…} without her consuming my thoughts at all times. And I don’t know what to do with that, other than to intentionally think hard about her. And then that’s when I get deeply sad. My guess is that this will eventually even out. But right now it’s a terrible conflict going on within me.
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  • I also sometimes find myself thinking something I never would have guessed I could before 12.19.13. Because I had such an awful pregnancy… like the kind that made me swear I would never again get pregnant, because it was far too unbearable for me, and that is just the physical part of it I’m referring to {not to mention the emotional toil each day brought after we received bad news around week 13}… I find that I tell myself I would do all 258 days of it again if it meant i could spend another six hours with her. That’s something I could only ever understand by having met her the first time.
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  • Mr. B. texted me at exactly 3:24 today and wrote, “One week ago right now.” I didn’t even get the text until later. I wish I had seen it as soon as it was sent. I wish I had noticed the time myself… maybe even posted here right then, to honor her and that precious time of our lives… a time and date I’ll never forget to pause for and reflect on again. Or so I hope.
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  • It’s exactly 9:30 right now. I just looked. Around the time she died that day… six hours after she arrived. So I think I’ll wrap up these random thoughts here.

Dear sweet Anysia Noel, I miss you in ways I could never begin to speak to or pen, and won’t even try. I’ll only ever write what I can… what will come, as it does. My wish is that you could somehow see my heart as I write my way through this, and know just how much I loved… love… you. If you were here, I would show you. You are not, but I will still never stop trying, even if there is no way it could ever reach you. I am more than honored to have carried you through to 3:24 of December 19th and held you for six hours beyond that. It was a privilege to be given the gift of your beauty and innocence, and I desperately hope in the belief that you are in good hands since mine could not save you. ~mama

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