First visit in 4 years

Today as part of my training in becoming a stillbirthday birth and bereavement doula I visited the funeral home that we used for Carleigh. I have drove by the funeral home many times. I pass it every time I go to work, but I have never set foot back in there since her last visitation. It has been almost 4 years since I have been back there. Leading up to my assignment I admit I was a bit weepy. Just thinking of going back there brought up a lot of emotions and memories. The funeral home was very kind to us so there is nothing negative about our experience with them. It's just one of those things.

I was surprised that it went much better than I expected. Upon entering the building the first thing I noticed was the smell. It smelled the same way it did back then. It was oddly comforting.

The funeral director I spoke with was the one that I gave Carleigh to after we left the hospital and I reminded him of that. He was very nice and receptive to everything and even contacting me if a family is in need of birth/bereavement support once I complete my doula training. As we were talking about what they offer and what parents choose he mentioned that a mother several years ago even kept her baby with her overnight at the hospital because she was not ready to let go yet and needed more time with her baby. I'm like, "uh, yeah, that was me." :)

So, even 4 years later I'm still working on getting through the "firsts". (Maybe this is the last one??) I do think that if I had visited earlier in my grief it would have been more difficult but I'm in a better place. I've had healing and perspective on my side, but even with that it doesn't erase the missing. Visiting today has magnified the missing.

I have grasped at the memories of those moments with her there that we had-the heart-shattering goodbye, dressing her, holding her, the visitation. I have the need to remember more since this is the month of her birthday and it's fast approaching.

My little girl would be four. ♥

The day after handing her over

We were able to dress Carleigh in her burial outfit the day after handing her over to the funeral home. I was able to get through the night knowing I would be able to see my little girl again the next day. Sure, it was only her body but it was all I had. I was never able to meet her soul outside of my belly.

Anthony and I arrived and took her out of her casket and just spent time with her before dressing her. Her color was lighter than when we saw her last as they had embalmed her. Her face was still darker than the rest of her but I expected that. She felt heavier too and she looked swollen. She looked different but it was still her. I kept a tissue close because when I moved her around a lot embalming fluid would come out of her nose. I just pretended she had a little runny nose.

Anthony's dad and brother arrived a little later than us at the funeral home. Anthony's dad took pictures (his are the better quality ones) and his brother took video. I have to say I enjoyed dressing her. It was only my third time to dress her in something and it would be my last. I had my share of tears and I didn't want to leave her.

Here are some photos of that day of us holding Carleigh and me dressing her. They tell the story.

Handing her over

It's been awhile since I last posted about the days surrounding Carleigh's birth so I thought I would finally post the next thing.

We arrived at the funeral home after leaving the hospital. The drive wasn't nearly long enough. I remember just wishing we could drive home and not even go to the funeral home, but I knew it was something we had to do. I stayed in the car as long as possible until Anthony came and got me out.

This picture always gets to me. It looks like there isn't any life in my eyes. I look empty.

We made the slow walk inside and had a seat on one of the couches. One of the funeral directors, Craig, gave us as much time as we needed and I'm so glad we weren't rushed. We just sat there as I held her and we gazed at her and kissed her and told her we loved her very much.

In this photo if you look close enough you can see a single tear on my face.

I reluctantly stood up. I knew it was time to hand her over. This is the part I was dreading so, so much. Handing her over was the absolute worst. It was the hardest part in the whole journey for me.






After she was gone from my arms I broke down. Anthony held me as I sobbed and he held me up as we walked out and we drove home. The pain from that moment will always be with me. When I think about it I can't help but shed tears remembering how much my heart broke. And it really, truly felt broken.