Ivy's Faith

I miss her.  I miss her so much.  My heart feels like it is being ripped out.  And in it's place nothing remains.  No more joy.  No more happiness.  Nothing to strive or reach for.  Just the grief.  Just the pain.  Just remembering her soft hair pressed against my cheek the last time I talked to her and she asked me to protect her always.  And I did.  I did promise.  She told me she loved me and called me daddya.  Her special name for me.  And I just took her home.  Not knowing...not thinking that 24 hours later I would be holding her at a different hospital as her last breath escaped her tiny body.  My cheek snuggled against her hair this time telling her how much I loved and needed her.  I tried to make a deal with god.  I promised I would take her place.  I promised my eternal happiness for her just to open her eyes...to not die.  To not leave.  I begged.  I begged like I had never before.  Anything from me to save her.  Anything....to protect her...   But my words were as leaves in the Autumn...clinging as long as they can before falling to earth to be blown away.

God I am begging again.  Please...please listen to my prayers and give me some measure of comfort.  Let me know she is there waiting for me.  Please help me hold to my faith because it is all I have left...all that I have left of her and I can't lose it.  I just can"t.

Ivy if you can hear or see or understand any of this please help me hold my faith.

Love Daddy.

Ivy's Light

It has been a little while since I last posted something.  It is Christmas Eve and I couldn't sleep.  I lay awake in bed thinking how my little girl wasn't going to be be home for christmas....wasn't ever going to be home again.  I was never going to hear her little steps again running through the house....would never again see her smiling at me with her sparkling eyes full of mischief.  Not in this world again at least.

We went to a candle lighting ceremony for a group that we attend called the Society of Compassionate Friends. This wonderful group meets monthly and is a gathering of people from all walks of life that share something in common....the loss of a close loved one.  A brother, a father, a wife and of course a child.  This group comes together and allows us to discuss how we feel rather it be anger, hate, rage, love, grief and even faith with others that understand....truly understand what we are feeling because they have experienced it also.  Many people try to understand what we are going through or tell us that time will heal.  I appreciate the sentiments and truly love all of them for trying to help,  but they will never truly understand what it is like until you go through it.  Being able to share your anger or grief with others that have the same feelings is truly a blessing.  Wanting to know am I going crazy for some of the thoughts I have only to find out that they are commonly shared.  The intense grief in my heart shared in the heart of another for their own child helps give me peace.  The way that some of them that have had more time for their grief and have found various ways to come to terms with it.  We all gathered together and as part of a world wide ceremony we lit a candle for Ivy.  Other familys and parents lit one for their lost ones and we shared stories of our loved ones.  The candle stays lit for 1 hour in our time zone and then groups in the next time zone light theirs allowing the light of our love to travel around the world.

In ways almost all parents who have lost a child try and find a way to honor their lost one.  Be it a personal goal or a more public statement.  Michele and I decided we would do a christmas stocking for Ivy.  It just didn't seem right to hang all of the stockings up and not have one for our Ivy.  So we put up hers and gathered gifts from family and friends.  They were then all given to a family who was not going to have a christmas.  In this way Ivy's love lives on in all those who so generously donated a gift and also in the hearts of the children that will lighten with delight from Ivy's gift.

May your light always shine so bright until I see you again Ivy,
as always
Love Daddy

Ivy's Monument

Ivy’s headstone memorial,

Today is a day for remembrance. A day that would not of been possible for us without the love, generosity and charity of Neil Adams and his son.  This day is also for tears, for joy, for grief, and for happiness.  Though it is seemingly impossible to have all of these feelings at once I bear truth to you that it is so.  Even though Ivy has passed into the arms of her heavenly father, this monument to her life will stand. 

It will stand.

Stand for Love

Stand for Remembrance

Stand for Sacrifice

Stand.  As I will in the darkness and in the light.

Stand.  Holding my family tight and her memory bright.

Stand to be the man I must be.

This piece of stone that marks her earthly remains is a dedication to her life.  A reaffirmation of all of our love for her.  A reminder of her beauty both in body and in spirit.  A inspiration to become the kind of people she would be proud of.

Lastly this is not a marker of her death, but a marker of her journey through life and the love she shared so freely.

As always Ivy,  I love you.

Daddy and Mommy

Ivy's sunset

I got a call from my mom and dad today.  They told me that Ivy's headstone is ready and will be put in this week. 

It just hit me like a brick wall.  A headstone.  The finality of it.  No more denial, no more hope, just the end of everything. 

A beautiful headstone with a hand painted porcelein picture of her smiling face on it.  Put above her earthly remains.  First we needed to find out if the ground was frozen so my parents drove me out to her grave in Nephi which is about a half hour from our home. 

First the most important thing is to thank my Uncle Neal who has helped us in this difficult time by designing and making the headstone for us as a gift.  A tribute to Ivy.  The sacrifice of him and his familys time and materials to help us is astounding.  Although I am so grateful to them it just really hit me.

The drive out to Nephi was harder this time than the one for her burial.  I didn't have to be strong for my kids, for my wife.  I just cried silently the whole way.  My parents tried their best to comfort me but I refused to be comforted.  My Ivy was alone.  Buried in the cold earth and I was traveling down the freeway in the fading light of day to be close to her mortal remains once more.  The sun was setting on our way down to nephi.  The last rays of the cold day flickering in and out of view as the jagged vista of the mountains came and went, obscuring then clearing as rays of light shot up into the dark clouds turning them a dark red.  And right in the middle of it was a flame.  A bright light surrounded by darkness like a flickering candle in a dark room.  Staring at it's final defiance against the night I thought of Ivy's last day.  Her fight for life.  My need for her to live.  All of it failed.  All of it going dark eventually like the light of the sun. 

When we arrived at the sunset the gloom was complete for me as I found Ivys grave, still standing slightly above the ground from the loose dirt not yet settled.  A hard crust of white snow covering her.  After checking the ground to see if it was frozen I asked my parents for some time alone with my little one.  I knelt on her grave and poured forth my soul into the cold ground.  My pants and hands covered with wet snow yet I didn't feel a thing compared to the ache for her within me.  I finally stood, swaying for a moment and bowed my head one final time to say "I love you Ivy" and returned to the truck.

Enough for now.

As always Ivy I love you
Daddy

Words I need to say to Ivy

I know sometimes that these blogs have a sad desperate side to them,  well I won't deny it its a sad painful subject that needs a release.  I love and appreciate all of you who have and continue to support us.  Some people feel you just need time to get over it....or I know how you feel.  Well much as I appreciate the sentiments it is hard to accept that I will ever get over it or that someone else other that my wife can know how much it hurts.  I know people are trying to help in their own way and that includes trying to reassure the grieving and to provide hope.  Well let me tell you something about hope.  It is not just a word to me.  This is what "hope is" to me.

I hope.  I hope hard.  I hope so long.  I hope that Ivy can hear me and the words that I need to say to her.

As I held my daughter for the last five minutes of her life as the machines that sustained her life were turned off I cradled her tightly in my arms.  Kissing her forehead and telling her it was ok.  She didn't have to hurt any more.  That she was loved.  That is was ok for her to go so she could rest.

What I wanted to say to her was please don't leave me Ivy.  Please.  Let me hold your hand and leave here with you.  Let daddy make it better,  let me protect you from death.

As I sat with her alone for a few minutes during that long night I held her hand and sang her favorite lullaby.  The one that I sang to all three of my girls when they were frightened or scared.  I sang the words to her even though I am no great musician and told her about my love for her.  I have not been able to sing it since to my beautiful twins because my throat tightens and my vocal cords lock as my eyes fill with tears.

I need to tell her that I would travel through hell to find her.  I would give up my own life to save her.  I would set her free even though it destroyed me. 

It is late.  In fact while writing this a new day has dawned.  I sit here in the living room close to those I love the most in this world.  Yet no matter how close I am...no matter that I could go up the stairs and hold them in my arms....there is an emptyness.  A part of me that died that day.  If given the opportunity to lessen the pain were given to me I would not take it.  I would not lessen the love and adoration I had for my child.  I would not permit her memory to be marred in any way by any short comings of mine. 

So I must stand strong.  I must be the person who will be deserving of the love she freely gave to me.  I must be the father and husband my wife and twins deserve to help them through this trying time.  I beg god daily for the strenght to just make it through one more day.  Just one more.  And then beg the next day for the strength to once again make it through one more day.

I think daily of her death,  how as I readied myself to close her casket I pulled her favorite yellow blankie around her and tucked her in tight one last time.  Stroked her hair and touched her hand for the last time on this earth and then closed the casket.  Closing away that part of my life into the past where it must stay no matter how I try and drag it into the present. 

I just want to hold your hand one more time little one,  to hold you in my arms and let you kiss my cheek.  To hear you day in your beautiful voice "I love you dadya"  She always loved to call me dadya because she heard her older sisters do it.

As always Ivy,
Love daddy, the proudest name I could ever have from my little girl.

Another Ivy leaf unfurls

Describing Ivys death in my last blog was a contest of water resistant keyboards and absorbant paper towels.   The idea of sharing my thoughts and feelings with others would of horrified me beyond words just a short time ago.  Writing this blog has allowed me to give thought and consideration to each part of Ivy's tragic loss.  I find I like to compare things....and use them to describe how things (crazy, looney things sometimes) run through my mind. 

The storm broke suddenly, violent tendrils of rain streaking towards the earth.  Gathering, piling, and flowing until the single drop becomes a rivulet, then a tendril, racing onward to gather in streams and flowing into rivers broad and swift.  Then this unstoppable force calms as it enters into the tributary of a lake,  the water spreading its broad wings across the surface as it adds it weight and power to the already immense stored pressure.  Where must this pressure go?  This undaunted power that refuses to remain contained, pushing relentlessly on the flood gates until finally straining and buckling they loose there contents once again into the river. 

This is how I feel about what happened with Ivy.  The sudden appearance of grief.  The undiminishing force of it as it pours into your soul.  To try and hold something back of that magnitude would be impossible,  not only impossible but unwise and wrong.  To not let the grief pour out is to try and stop something that is not meant to be held.  I know many of you call and ask how I am doing and sometimes I break down on the phone,  other times i am not as communicative as I could be and yet others I act as though all is fine.  It is difficult may days to hold it in when you are trying to accomplish what needs doing that day.  From working, school, and most important family.  As I mentioned above I like to compare so to be fair I must describe what happens after the dam bursts.

The clouds break,  streamers of warm clean sun shining through the droplets.  Refracting off of each one and throwing prizms of light out to others to repeat the effect.  The pressure on the flood gates ease as other streams and rivers feeding the lake slow the flow and relieve the tension.  The empty flooded landscape slowly absorbs the water and new life comes forth from the old.  Fresh flowers and plants spreading accross large swaths of fields.  The growth is slow but steady moving forward from a desolated bleak landscape to one filled with the sights, sounds and feeling of life. 

Everytime someone calls me,  talks to me or prays for me and my family it helps lessen the load.  Its not always easy to talk about her but it would be a diservice to Ivy to not share all the love we had for her, and more importantly the love she had for us. 

Somedays my posts will be rain, other days sunny.  Even possibly a snowstorm or blizzard depending on the day.  My grief runs deep,  buried under many emotions that I must face and work through but more important is my love for my family and for my little Ivy. 

So please do what all of you are already doing, writing, talking, calling.  Everybit helps and even though I might not have the strength everyday to thank everyone I hope that they know I am borrowing on their will, love and courage to get through each day and am immensly grateful.

As always I will write again after I have sorted through my emotions.  Know that I love you all with more love than I thought my heart could hold...the love of a little girl named Ivy.

Once again I love you Ivy.
Daddy

Ivy Leaves - The death of a child

Starting out is always the hardest part.  Moving that first step forward to begin a journey of unknown length and time, knowingly opening oneself to happiness, grief, wonder, sadness and all the emotions to come.  

This is my first step.  The first of many to come.  Some large, some small, but always moving forward towards the acceptance and understanding that I so desperately need.

My name is Justin. I have a wonderful wife named Michele and together we have 3 wonderful daughters.  Two 6 year old twins that couldn't be more different in looks or personality and our 3 year old daughter Ivy.  All of our girls have special qualities about them and are special to us.  One of Ivy's gifts was her long curly hair and a beautiful smile,  people would stop us in the store and tell us what a beautiful child she was.  We of course agreed but I do admit to being a little biased about it.

On Oct 4th 2011 I woke up at five AM to get ready for another day of school and work.  I found my wife already up with Ivy.  I descended the stairs to them and asked what was wrong.  Ivy was feeling some pain in her stomach and felt warm to the touch.  We decided that I would take her to the emergency room just to make sure that she was alright.  Doing what most parents do,  needing the reassurance of a professional that all was right with those we love most.  My wife had been up with her so I took her to the ER and we were checked in at the desk.  Ivy sat in my lap wrapped up in her favorite yellow blanket that she drew comfort from.  We were taken into the ER and put in a room.  Ivy laying on the bed and chatting with me about many things....minor things I know but what I would not give to remember the exact wording,,,,the phrasing and the sound of her little voice as she giggled and laughed.  The nurse came in first and took her temperature it was over 103 degrees.  Then they had Ivy use the restroom and save it in a cup for lab purposes.  It came back with all sorts of information about white blood count and such.  Many which were very high.  At this point I started to worry for my little one until the doctor reassured me that it was just a urinary tract infection and that he would prescribe a oral antibiotic to take home and give to her.  

Feeling much better about the situation now that I had been reassured by a professional I filled the prescription at the hospital pharmacy and immediately gave her the first dose.  Carrying her in my arms with her head next to mine she was completely wrapped up in her favorite yellow blankie.  As we left the building to go out to the van she wrapped her arms around my neck and said "I love you daddy"  I replied that I loved her to and gave her a kiss on the cheek.  As I was fastening her seatbelt she asked me " Daddy will you always protect me?"  I thought it an odd question but assured her that I would always protect her from anything.

I drove her home with her quietly humming to herself in the back of the van and left her with my wife.  I left for school and decided to stay late because I needed to catch up on some homework.  So I turned off my phone and studied.  At 1PM I turned it back on and found dozens of messages.  Before I could read any of them my phone rang, it was my father telling me that Michele had gone to give Ivy her 2nd dose of antibiotics and had found her not breathing.  She had performed CPR and had been taken to the hospital by ambulance and was being lifeflighted from there to Primary Childrens Medical Center in Salt Lake City.  I parked my van in a lot next to school not being able to drive as tears coursed down my face.  My mother drove up with my wife and picked me up.  I climbed into the car and held my wife and sobbed for my little girl.  Terrified beyond reason that we would wind up being one of "those other" parents that bad things happen to.  Upon arrival at the hospital we sprinted in and between sobs we managed to get our daughters name out and were immediately were taken upstairs to the ICU.  We were sat in a private room and asked to wait until the doctor could come see us.  The doctor came in to what I can only describe as a whirlwind of questions and hysterical emotions.  We found that Ivy was on a ventilator and being kept alive by machines.  They did not know anything yet but suspected septic shock.  Her organs had mostly shut down and was not breathing on her own.  The loss and despair of this was such a numbing shock that I felt I would never feel warmth again as ice coursed through my veins and despair overwhelmed my mind.  

All through the long night my wife and I, family and friends sat by her bedside holding her hand.  Taking turns with her as long as possible before leaving for a short time to grieve in private.  The doctor was honest and told us that it was very bad and things were not going well.  I called family and friends from that hospital waiting room....pouring out my tears and fear.  Losing the battle with hope I spiraled further and further into a never ending abyss.  The next morning my wife and I sat together,  bleary eyes and muddled minds from the long arduous night.  The doctor sat with us and explained that our little ones mind was gone and there was no longer any hope.  A lance of pain and agony sank itself into my soul as all hope was finally taken from us.  We chose to let her go with dignity and love.  So at 8:15 AM on October 5th we held our little girl in our arms for her final minutes.  I held her little body as tight as I could in my arms and told her that it was ok.  That I loved her and it was ok to let go.  That we loved her more that anything and we would trade places with her in an instant.  As family surrounded us I held my dying child in my arms and sobbed out my love to her.  Burying her face with kisses.  Then....she was gone and my world was over.  What to do,  what to say, how to live now that my child was gone.  We gently laid her down on the bed and left the room.  

I will stop for now but will continue the narration in a few days.  A few days to shed a few more tears and ponder what I want to say next.  

Even though I will think on what to put next I know that the last thing I will write today is

"I love you to Ivy"  

Daddy.