In 2007 I was blessed with an angel. On December 24, 2007 we found out that our daughter Ciara Grace was too beautiful for this earth. I was crushed. Hours from home in a small community hospital being told that there is no heartbeat and that the bleeding should start soon, I was sent into the cold without an answer. The answer would come later our daughter, Ciara Grace, had Trisomy 18 and I was told that pregnancy loss wasn't uncommon with these babies. I had a name for this nightmare, but not any comfort.
In 2014 I was still hurting, I wanted my baby, it didn't matter that we had since had 3 more daughters and a son. I wanted my baby. I went looking for someone who understood and I found a group of parents in a closed Facebook group all who had faced my nightmare and many more who were still in the nightmare. Images of tiny infants some wrapped in handmade blankets others in standard hospital blankets filled my news feed. We have cried together, rejoiced together, and we have shared our angels. Their names are welcome there, their stories are shared, and their memories cherished.
2015 came in hard. I married Ciara's dad, and we watched as a family friend became an angel parent. Then before the pain could fade her father suffered a heart attack. The world had barely stopped reeling from the loss of such a good man, a wonderful father when we got the message from my oldest daughter now 16 and living with her father that her grandmother had passed away. It wasn't even February yet. All the while I was active in the Facebook group searching for a reason, some comfort somewhere, crocheting to numb the spinning in my head and then I saw it. Racheal was posting about March being Trisomy Awareness month and baby patterns scrolling through my Ravelry account. Rachel was making sure her daughter would never be forgotten, she had offered me a memory box a month or two before. Layla would be remembered for the work her mother was doing now, it was beautiful. Then it struck babies need blankets, grieving parents need their baby to be remembered, my hands could do this I could bring comfort in Ciara's name, her name didn't need to be forbidden anymore it could mean hope and healing.
In 2014 I was still hurting, I wanted my baby, it didn't matter that we had since had 3 more daughters and a son. I wanted my baby. I went looking for someone who understood and I found a group of parents in a closed Facebook group all who had faced my nightmare and many more who were still in the nightmare. Images of tiny infants some wrapped in handmade blankets others in standard hospital blankets filled my news feed. We have cried together, rejoiced together, and we have shared our angels. Their names are welcome there, their stories are shared, and their memories cherished.
2015 came in hard. I married Ciara's dad, and we watched as a family friend became an angel parent. Then before the pain could fade her father suffered a heart attack. The world had barely stopped reeling from the loss of such a good man, a wonderful father when we got the message from my oldest daughter now 16 and living with her father that her grandmother had passed away. It wasn't even February yet. All the while I was active in the Facebook group searching for a reason, some comfort somewhere, crocheting to numb the spinning in my head and then I saw it. Racheal was posting about March being Trisomy Awareness month and baby patterns scrolling through my Ravelry account. Rachel was making sure her daughter would never be forgotten, she had offered me a memory box a month or two before. Layla would be remembered for the work her mother was doing now, it was beautiful. Then it struck babies need blankets, grieving parents need their baby to be remembered, my hands could do this I could bring comfort in Ciara's name, her name didn't need to be forbidden anymore it could mean hope and healing.
FEBRUARY 20, 2015
Today Ciara's youngest brother grew his angel wings and joined Ciara. Please keep us and all the families of angels in your prayers, this is a pain I wish upon no one. Thank You.