May 2, 2010 A year lost. Today has been a year since we lost our Caylee. She was taken from us before we ever got to hold her, squeeze her, or kiss her pretty face. Despite never being able to hear her laugh or cry, we gained an enormous amount of love for our little lady. She'll never be replaced, nor forgotten. In the beginning it was hard but time helped us through. On April 6th, 2010 we were blessed with a beautiful baby girl whom we named Ashlyn Nicole - Caylee's little sister! Ashlyn is almost 4 weeks old and has completely changed our lives. She has created a huge source of joy and happiness for her mother and I and is perfect in every way, yet I can't help but think of Caylee and wonder what kind of little person she would be today if she was here. Today is Caylee's day. Jennifer, Ashlyn and I are going to do a few special things to remember her and thank her for watching over her sister and helping her to make it safely into mommy and daddy's arms. We love you, Caylee! Love Mommy, Daddy and Ashlyn.
|
May 4, 2009 She's gone. As abruptly as she entered our lives, she left us with broken hearts. Friday morning we learned that our unborn daughter was no longer with us. For those of you that know Jennifer and I, you know the emotions that we have went through since we learned of the pregnancy. What started as fear quickly turned to excitement almost 4 months ago when the test results confirmed that we were going to be parents. Ever since that day our thoughts and actions have become very deliberate towards a single purpose – the baby. We convinced ourselves that it was a boy. Not necessarily because we wanted a boy, but because most of the fables that determine the gender told us that it was a boy and the sheer number of girls in my family had to increase the odds that eventually some boys will be mixed in, right? Wrong. On April 4th, much to our surprise, our 4-D ultrasound would confirm that we were having a little girl. Fine with us – we named her Caylee Jenée. We would continue to do the things typical during a pregnancy. All of the things that you can and can’t do, can and can’t eat, the Doctors, the appointments, the research, the shopping, the planning… all the way up to our scheduled appointment for the 20th week ultrasound and checkup. This appointment was supposed to be more exciting, though, because we were having an ultrasound to determine the baby’s gender. We already knew it was a girl because we had the 4-D ultrasound done by a specialist, but we wanted to make sure that the Doctor seen the same thing as the specialist. Friday morning, Jennifer had an appointment at 10:30am. I contemplated not even going with her because I was sure that they would just confirm what we already knew and it wasn’t worth missing another day at work, but I decided to go for no other reason than Jennifer really seemed to want me there. We had no reason to think anything was wrong with our daughter but had no idea that this would be 1 of the most devastating days of our lives. We waited for about 15 minutes before being called in for the ultrasound. The Nurse joined us and seemed very friendly. She asked a few basic questions and then turned out the lights for a better view of the screen. About 30 seconds into the ultrasound I began to notice the lack of familiar sounds and movements, but dismissed the possibility of anything being seriously wrong. As I clinched Jennifer’s hand in mine, waiting to see the images of our daughter’s beating heart, minute after minute began to tick by and all I saw was pass after pass of smudgy blots covering the screen. As I became more and more concerned I reassured myself that I know nothing about this machine and this woman is a professional and surely would have indicated that something was wrong by now. Not wanting to upset Jennifer, I kept quiet. At 1 point, the Nurse accidentally activated what I recognized to be the heartbeat monitor but quickly deactivated it as to not alarm us. I instantly associated this with an obvious problem and began to feel very uneasy. She then proceeded to take measurements of various things on the screen and I’m convinced that the worst possible outcome is becoming our reality. About 5 minutes into the ultrasound the Nurse asks Jennifer if she has ever miscarried before. Jennifer, not being able to see the screen, responded as if it was just a question in a series of questions. I knew different and I could no longer handle the silence. I blurted out “is something wrong!?” I didn’t see a heartbeat, I didn’t see our baby move, I didn’t see any signs of life and I wanted Jennifer to know that something horrible was happening. The Nurse said, “I don’t know, I’m going to ask the Doctor to come in.” I could feel Jennifer squeezing my hand uncontrollably as she started to cry, obviously realizing that the unthinkable was happening. Caylee was gone. Several minutes later the Doctor enters the room. While the nurse was out I had explained to Jennifer what I had seen, and more importantly, what I hadn't seen. She was now crying hysterically and it was very obvious that our baby was no longer living, despite still not being told directly by the Nurse or the Doctor. The Doctor began to explain that the measurements were showing that the baby had stopped growing at 17½ weeks and we were now at 20 weeks, indicating that the baby had passed 2½ weeks prior, merely days after our last ultrasound appointment. I was in shock. WE were in shock. We had come to confirm that we were growing a little baby girl and were being told that our baby had died. The feeling I had was indescribable. And there was more bad news. The Doctor told us that we needed to go directly to ‘Labor and delivery’ which was upstairs on the 3rd floor. My sadness immediately turned to fear when I realized that not only had we lost our baby, but she was still inside Jennifer’s tummy and would have to be removed. Instantly I assumed there had to be a simple solution for the removal of our child, but there wasn’t. Jennifer would have to have the baby induced and physically go through child birth labor. All I could think of was the emotional scars that would be a product of the hours to come. Jennifer was admitted immediately and would spend the next 19 hours in labor with no chance of bringing home the beautiful, healthy daughter we hoped for. We were given the option to see Caylee after she was born, and despite my reservations we decided that we had to see her. This was our only opportunity to meet the little girl that we had grown for 5 promising months inside Jennifer’s belly. We had to say goodbye. The Doctor warned that she would be very small and underdeveloped and that she would look ‘different’ than other babies we had seen, but he agreed that it was the right decision to see her. After the birth we had about 30 minutes alone with just myself, Jennifer, and Caylee. There weren’t many words spoken, mostly tears, but the emotion was overwhelming. There were no signs of what went wrong. No obvious reason that would cause all of this. She had 10 little fingers and 10 little toes, but not a whimper in her body. She was smaller than my hand but had grown to be bigger than my life before we even met. All I could think of was helping Jennifer through this unbelievable experience. I’m a big, tough man and it was killing me, I could only imagine the pain Jennifer was feeling. I did what I could to comfort her but it was impossible. We told Caylee that we loved her and we said goodbye. It’s been about 36 hours since we were able to come home from the hospital - possibly the most difficult 36 hours of my life. There are so many unanswered questions, so many emotions, so many tears. I can tell Jennifer is feeling guilty. I can tell she is constantly in pain. More emotionally than physically, but in pain nevertheless. All I want to do is relieve the pain for a few seconds and make her smile again. We thought being home would help but it doesn’t, it makes it worse. It’s astonishing to me how many things in our lives were influenced by the baby. Everything we do, everything we see, everything we hear, all reminds us of Caylee. Today we went to the Build-a-bear workshop to get Jennifer a bear and we named her CJ. They put a heart inside her chest with a real heartbeat and it immediately caused Jennifer to break down, but she is a beautiful bear and I’m sure she will help tremendously. The poor lady at Build-a-bear had no idea what she was getting herself into when she asked Jennifer to kiss the heart and make a wish. We love you Caylee.
I want to thank all of our friends and families that have showed their love and support. You are the world to us. James, Jennifer, and Caylee.
|
May 5, 2009 A brighter day. As you all know, this last week has been the worst week ever for us. It's hard to say "we're doing better", but after yesterday, we're doing a little better. On Saturday, after I delivered Caylee, the doctors gave us 3 options for her remains - we could either leave her with the hospital, we could bury her, or we could have her cremated. There was no way in the world that we were going to leave our little girl with strangers, there was no way that we were going to put her in the ground and leave her all alone, so the decision was simple - we wanted to have her cremated so she could always be with her mommy and daddy. So, yesterday we got to see her again. We had a short viewing to see Caylee one last time. It was sooo hard but in a way it was very comforting. She looked so peaceful. We knew that she was being taken care of. We were able to leave some things with her, so we left her some pictures of her daddy and I, a picture of my parents, a picture of James' mom, and a picture of James' cousin and his wife who would have been Caylee's God Parents. We wrote little notes on the back of each picture because we wanted her to know that we all love her very much. We also left her a few flowers, and the cutest little stuffed lamb named Lovie and asked her to be Caylee's bestfriend forever and watch over her. We said our last goodbyes and told her we would see her soon. Caylee is being cremated on Thursday and will be coming home with us on Friday, which happens to be my birthday. Friday is going to be a tough day, but I honestly couldn't have asked for a better birthday present. Our little girl is coming home.
James, Caylee and I would like to thank everyone from The Mommy Playbook who have taken the time to show their love and support for us and our family in this time of heartache. All of your kind words, thoughts and prayers have brought comfort to us. |