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Sometimes I’m gathering up all my energy to cook a meal. Or sometimes I’m walking through a crowded IKEA store. Sometimes it’s at the park with my girls.

I never know when I’ll see something that will trigger memories of Kyle, or worse, my memories of my dreams of Kyle.

Sometimes I feel like it never happened – that it was all a bad dream – and that now I’m awake and I should go do dishes. Then, I open my freezer and bags of frozen breast milk fall out that I’m holding for a friend.

Kyle’s milk. it says, on the name line.

Then there’s those wretched anniversaries. For the one month anniversary, I was home for several days by myself – my husband was visiting his dying grandfather in Florida. He desperately didn’t want to leave, but I thought I’d be ok.

It’s incredible the things that go through your mind, the moments you relive, all because of silly numbers on a clock or on a calendar!

Every. Single. Memory. It all came back as if I were looking on again while it happened. I felt contractions. I remembered that blessed morphine dose I got to give me a break from the pain for an hour or two so I could get a visit from my girls. I remembered my sweet sister’s laboring over photos – that I still can’t look at. I remembered the tears that were shed by nurses on my behalf behind curtains and closed doors. I remembered holding him. And around the time he was born in my arms, 1:30 AM, I finally let myself fall asleep. Then when I woke up, I just wanted that moment – that awful moment – when I passed on his little body to the funeral home man to come and go quickly.

I had made plans with a good friend visiting from China to meet us at the park that day. Hoping it would keep me from being in terrible despair in my room all day. But, honestly, I didn’t feel like doing anything. Thankfully, my girls are very self-sustaining. They were completely happy to find a movie and their two favorite boxes of cereal.  I heard them talking… “Mommy’s still sad today, Kami. I’ll just get you breakfast today.” “OK! Col-we! Let’s just watch a movie!” “Kami, I can’t find any bowls. We’ll just have to eat the cereal like this, ok?”


Later that morning, Chloe came in and checked on me. I told her, “Chloe, Mommy’s gonna be really sad today. It’s Kyle’s one month day. But he’s not here to have a little party for him. So I just miss him.”

She gave me the prettiest smile and said, “Oh mom, how about we have a baby Kyle picnic, then, at the park? We can have a picnic and play and run. It can be a baby Kyle party.”

While that would probably get most mama’s hearts and turn them around for the better, I was beyond easy convincing at this point. “But, Chloe, Kyle won’t be there.”

Apparently, Chloe was beyond easy convincing too. “But Mom. It’s OK. It’s just a celebration. For Kyle. Cause he’s in Heaven. So it can still be good. And here….”
(She ran to the kitchen and grabbed some blue daisies another friend and delivered to my house the day before and brought them into my room.) “….we can just take these to him today at his flower place.”


My daughter is a genius. The other title for this post was going to be “(Not so much) Like Mother, Like Daughter.”

Chloe proceeded to make a picnic lunch. She’s quite the inventive cook. Peanut butter and rotisserie chicken sandwiches with lettuce? Hmm…..hey. At least they were triple deckers. This was one family outing I was happy to be on a diet. 🙂






Seeing those smiles and yogurt mustaches was just what I needed. It got my mind off the ticking minutes. And got my mind on what I had right in front of me. Two beautiful gifts I’ll never deserve. And sometimes I think they’re angels. I guess I’ve been blessed with a lot of angels.


Chloe even got a hopscotch lesson. And a spanish lesson. And a quarter.




Then it was off to what we call the “Flower Place”. Where in the place of harsh, cruel, death, even in January, new grass was growing. And I felt like it was somehow a picture of my heart. I was feeling a little bit of healing. A little bit of growth. And it had all been watered by my never ending flow of tears. Without those tears, without that death, that grass wouldn’t be there. And my heart would never have grown to a place where it would be able to feel like it does now.

So, while in the depths of difficult hard grief, I’m learning that even when I go through deep waters, God will be with me. When I go through rivers of difficulty, I will not drown. When I walk through the fire of oppression, I will not be burned up; the flames will not consume me – because God is my God.  So, my grief, while mostly terrible – is sometimes good.



 — Isaiah 43:2,3



  • Andrea

    February 11, 2013 at 2:55 pm

    Kim, I just wanted to let you know that I cry with you when I read your posts. And I’ve been praying for you on a regular basis. Thank you for being a normal human being who is learning to lean harder on the Lord. I know that He will bring you through the valley of the shadow of death, and there will be amazing life and light on the other side! Miss you friend and wish I could be there to be a help during this rough time!



  • Jan Evett

    February 12, 2013 at 7:07 am

    Kim, you’ve been on my mind. You and these 2 beautiful girls are forever in my heart. This journey has made me (and many others) feel like long-time forever friends. I am thankful that you have these 2 “angels” and God’s love to sustain you, and that the only thing believers can hold onto some days is simply our hope in Christ. We will see Jesus and our sweet loved ones again (as you know already), but we can never really hear that enough during times of deep grief. Deep grief comes because of deep love … and you have loved deeply. We are blessed that you share your love and faith so well. Love and prayers!


  • Betty Whitehouse

    February 12, 2013 at 12:57 pm

    Kim, I so understand how you are feeling. Feb. 6 was 6 months since the incident with Jennifer. Feb. 8 was 6 months since the day she was pronounced and the 14th will be 6 months since the service. And I have been doing the same thing, going over everything in my mind. I know the situations are different but the loss of a child is the loss of a child. And the pain is excruciating. Love and prayers, Betty Ann


  • Cheryl

    February 14, 2013 at 4:03 pm

    I found you through Money Saving Mom. I’m praying for you and very sorry for your loss. I really hear the grief through your words and it sounds like its almost more than you can bear. Have you looked into grief support groups or talking to a therapist? I’ve gone through some difficult times in my life and found both to help a great deal. Of course, neither can take away the grief, but they can help ease it enough to make it bearable.


  • dallaswoodburn

    February 14, 2013 at 4:46 pm

    I just discovered your blog from Money-Saving Mom. Just wanted to let you know that you and your family are in my thoughts & prayers. Your daughters are beautiful angels and they are lucky to have such a caring and compassionate mother! Sending love and prayers your way.


  • Kay

    February 14, 2013 at 9:16 pm

    Thank you for sharing your story with us all. Your family is in my prayers.


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