A Garden for Molly

Three weeks have passed since my world changed forever.  I've learned many things in the past few weeks that I wish I didn't know.  I now know that the rate of stillbirth in the United States is 1/200 births.  I now know that many funeral homes do not charge for services provided for lost infants.  I now know that there are several infant loss support groups in Madison.  I also learned about organizations such as Mikayla's Grace, which provides memory boxes to parents leaving the hospital without their baby, and Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep, which provides local photographers that come to the hospital and take family photos with babies who will not make it home.

The past three weeks have also shown me what wonderful, supportive, generous people I am lucky to have in my life.  An extremely thoughtful and kind neighbor set up a meal calendar for our family.  I have not cooked since Molly's death, and I won't need to for at least two more weeks thanks to a stocked freezer.  In addition to the meals, many neighbors have stopped by with cards for us and gifts for Cole.  And last weekend when we needed help clearing our vegetable garden so that we could turn it into a memory garden for Molly, my yard was filled with family, friends, and neighbors.  So many people were here that most of them ended up standing around because there was not enough work to do.  I should have had them clean my house!  We felt so loved to have so many people supporting us.  And hearing the laughter and squeals of all the children running around the yard made my heart smile.  I know Molly was with us that day.

This past Saturday, Brendon's family and my family came to our house to help us bury Molly's ashes in the new garden and to plant flowers that will bloom for her each year.  We picked mostly yellow flowers since that just seems to be her color.  At the hospital after she was born, the nurse offered us a yellow hat or a pink hat.  I was going to go with pink, but Brendon said he'd always pictured Molly in yellow.  After that, the color yellow just seemed to keep popping up.  We bought Cole a train named Molly, and she of course is yellow.  We brought yellow sunflowers to the private funeral Brendon and I held for her.  I'm finding it comforting that many of the trees in our neighborhood have beautiful yellow leaves right now.  As I drive down our street, I imagine Molly saying to me, "I know you miss me, Mama, but I'm happy.  I made these trees beautiful so that you could think of me."

A few days ago we got a visit from our friends Alli and Shawn.  Alli asked us how we came up with Molly's name.  I realized at that moment that no one else has asked us that.  It made me so happy that Alli asked that - she was recognizing that Molly was real, and even though she died, Brendon and I are still proud of her and want to tell people what little we can about her.  She weighed 6 pounds and 2 ounces.  She was 18 inches long.  She had beautiful, long fingers, and Brendon's funny toes.  She had her brother's nose, and lovely little lips.  And the name Molly means "Wanted Child."  Her middle name, Christine, is after my Mom.

Another friend, who also lost her child the day he was born, recently told me she'd love to see photos of Molly if I'd like to share them.  I was very touched that she asked.  I've been hesitant to show pictures of Molly to people because I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable, and seeing photos of a dead child may seem morbid to some.  But again, like any other Mom, I'm proud of my baby, and I want to show her off to anyone who'd like to see a photo.  (I've found two good websites on what to do when a friend loses a child.  They are as follows:  http://www.glowinthewoods.com/how-to-help-a-friend/, http://facesofloss.com/friends-family/10-ways-to-support-the-person-in-your-life-who-has-just-lost-a-baby)  I have several regrets about things I didn't do when we were in the hospital, like not taking a lock of Molly's hair, but my biggest regret is that we didn't allow anyone to come and see her.  After having some time to process everything, I now know I would have liked to have had my family meet Molly while they could.  We also chose not to bring Cole to the hospital because we thought it would have been too confusing.  And while that's still true, I deeply wish I had a photo of my two children together.

Yesterday Cole and I were in the car with my oldest nephew James.  In the random way almost-3-year-olds talk, Cole was telling James that we went to buy dirt earlier that day.  James asked why, and Cole proceeded to tell him that we bought dirt for Molly's garden "so she could play in it."  He went on to say that baby Molly was too sick to come home and she got to go to heaven.  He said that he loves her and he wants to snuggle her and feed her.  Moments like that absolutely break my heart, but it also makes me so happy that Cole is thinking about his little sister.  She is a part of our family, and as hard as it is that she's not here, I don't want him to be scared to talk about her.  And I don't want him to forget she existed.  Maybe he knows something I don't.  Maybe Molly is playing in her garden.  I hope so.

"Pain does go away, and happiness is on the other side.  Although the pain comes back, so does the happiness.  It is like waves in the ocean, coming and going...coming and going...breathing in and breathing out..."
~Lia Gay