I remember...Naomi

This week is especially focused on Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness, with October 15 being Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. In that vein, each day this week, I would like to share one of my children in Heaven with you. Today is Naomi's day.

Naomi Faith was our second child, and our second daughter. Her death on March 9, 2009, opened the door to the world of pregnancy loss for us. I miss her every day. Read below about what I remember about this special daughter.

I remember Naomi.

I remember thinking that it could take a long time to get pregnant again, since it took three years until we were expecting our first daughter.
I remember being astonished at a positive pregnancy test after only three months of trying.
I remember taking secret mommy and daughter pictures for my husband's Christmas present, knowing that I was pregnant with our second child.
I remember being due in August.

I remember sharing the news with family over the holidays and enjoying the thought of adding a new cousin to the mix by next Christmas.
I remember looking for double strollers, because of course we would need one.
I remember realizing we would have two children in diapers at once.
I remember planning out when my maternity leave would be, and reading about tandem nursing.

I remember the abdominal pain one Sunday in January that brought us to the emergency room.
I remember fretting about getting a CT scan because it could hurt our baby.
I remember consenting to an appendectomy, and praying for our baby.
I remember hearing our baby's beautiful heartbeat after I woke up from surgery.

I remember being told a week later that it was not appendicitis, but a carcinoid tumor.
I remember alternating between fear for myself and fear for our child.
I remember trying to decide on when to have the recommended follow-up surgery - during my pregnancy or after delivery.

I remember getting the results of our nuchal translucency scan back.
I remember being told our baby could have Down Syndrome.
I remember feeling utterly overwhelmed at yet more bad news.
I remember researching Down Syndrome online one afternoon, and committing to loving our baby no matter what.
I remember planning a more detailed ultrasound for Tuesday, March 10, to learn more.

I remember eating chocolate chip pancakes at home Saturday, March 7.
I remember having abdominal pain again. Bad.
I remember that it wouldn't go away.
I remember the call to my OB office, and their suggestion that I come in.
I remember finding out that our baby was okay. 
I remember the ultrasound technician writing our baby's gender down for us, for later.
I remember that the pain wouldn't go away.

I don't remember Sunday because of the morphine.

I remember Monday morning, March 9, hearing a nurse say that my baby's heartrate was fine.
I remember realizing, not much later, that something was very, very wrong.
I remember calling for the nurse.
I remember her saying that it could be the baby coming. 
I remember knowing that I was 18 weeks pregnant and that no baby that young could survive.
I remember begging them to keep her alive anyway.
I remember the nurse midwife saying that my baby wasn't moving.

I remember us holding our daughter.
I remember her perfect features, down to her tiny fingernails.
I remember the nurses being so loving and careful with her.
I remember them asking us for her name.

I remember telling the nurse midwife to please cancel our March 10 ultrasound.

I remember the emergency surgery that followed for what turned out to be twisted intestines.
I remember days in the hospital, recovering.
I remember nights in the hospital, weeping.
I remember opening the note the first ultrasound technician had written for us: It's a girl!  She had been right.

I remember the stream of visitors, many of them friends with their own stories of loss.
I remember the nurse who had lost her firstborn son.
I remember the man who had lost his toddler son.
I remember the smallest flicker of hope that I could survive, too.

I remember seeing the same kind of yellow rose that was on my door, on another door down the hall from me.
I remember thinking about that other mom, that I wished I could talk with her, too.
I remember thinking that it might help both of us.

I remember preparing for her burial and memorial service.
I remember looking everywhere for a burial gown to no avail, until a dear friend made us one.
I remember my husband lovingly making a treasure chest in which to bury our daughter.
I remember visiting a natural cemetery and loving it and hating it at the same time.
I remember leaving her body there and saying good-bye.

I remember the many people who came to her service.
I remember those who helped us with it, who sang in it, who spoke at it, including others familiar with the heartache of losing a baby.
I remember pouring all the love of birthdays, graduations, and other celebrations into that one day.
I remember that when it was over...it was over.

I remember knowing God's peace.
I remember being confused by God.
I remember being angry at God.
I remember that I stopped trusting God.

I remember opening my Bible again and daring Him to prove His love to me.
I remember when He did.

I remember when I began dreaming of a way to bring other bereaved parents in our community together.
I remember wanting others to know that they are not alone.
I remember wanting a legacy for my daughter that would outlive her, and maybe outlive me.

I remember that her birthday would have been the first week of August.
I remember that this year she would have been five.
I can smile now, and I have found my footing again, and life is full of joy, and God is good!
But I will never stop remembering.

I remember...Naomi.

Do you have a baby in Heaven? Who are you remembering this week? Please share in the comments!