Cousins

Meeting their new little cousin 💗 Shecklet #3 was a bit sniffly today, so she and Jake stayed home. She will meet this little one in a different day.

1 year without Astrid

How can one year without our sweet baby have already passed by?

I started writing this post about a week before the anniversary of finding out Astrid’s heart stopped beating. I currently find myself in the middle of a very busy month. It seems we went from zero on the calendar to booked solid. We’re still distance learning, the kids are in activities that require chauffeuring multiple days a week, and this particular weekend was one where we celebrated two joy-filled occasions on one day: Shecklet #1’s 15th birthday and Shecklet #4’s First Communion.

And then there’s today. 5/16/2021.

This is not a day I ever wanted to have to mark on the calendar. I don’t know if dread is the proper way to describe how I’ve felt as 5/16 approached, but I suppose it’s been something like that. Yes, I know you can say we are celebrating a life, our daughter/sister’s life – her birth day. But it is nowhere near the same as the first birthdays her siblings have been able to celebrate with us. Her earthly life was so short. (Too short, IMO.) And thanks to COVID, her siblings and other family members never even had the chance to see her or hold her.

The events following the end of her life were intense. Induction planning, funeral planning, burial planning, and my return to the hospital – all within a week. I felt like I was on autopilot. Not much room for grieving with all of that going on. A year later, I feel like I’m reliving it all as we navigate what is really more of a week of anniversaries, not just a solitary day. It’s still hard to wrap my head around it all. I have felt numb at times. I know I haven’t given myself the space to truly feel the emotions in real-time because of the busyness of daily life. It’s good I have a therapy appointment this week.

Talking about a child’s death is not comfortable. I understand that bringing up their name or mentioning their life (no matter how long it was) can be hard. And yet, to those of us who have lost a child, it means so much to know that our kids are not forgotten. People know. People care. But not many will talk about them with you. Watching someone cry can be awkward. Death is uncomfortable. Silence is “easier.” I get it. That said, I am very grateful for those who have recently been willing to enter into the part of my life where my heart will always ache because it’s missing someone.

In the weeks leading up to today, a few people took the uncomfortable step to open the conversation to talk about Astrid. One friend (who I finally got to see after 1 1/2 years,) offered her condolences in person, asked me questions, and allowed me to share about my experience with this tremendous loss. Another friend texted me a few weeks before 5/16 to tell me she’s praying for me and recognized that the coming weeks would likely be difficult ones. The fact that she remembered this time of the year for my family meant a lot. Yesterday after First Communion, two friends handed me cards to open today. This morning, I received two hugs before mass and two after mass – one came from a stranger who told me, “I feel like I’m being led to give you a hug.” And throughout the day today, I received emails and text messages from friends and family who told me they’re thinking of us and praying for us. They wrote Astrid’s name. They cared enough to take the time to reach out. I feel humbled by people’s kindness towards me and my family.

The past 365 days have gone slow and fast at the same time. They have been full of tears, questions, prayers, and also peace. Astrid Philomena Sheck, we love you, we miss you, and we live with the hope of seeing you again one day in heaven! Happy birthday, sweet baby girl!

Solo Heartbeat Anniversary

1 year ago we were told Astrid’s heart was no longer beating.

I will never forget searching the screen for a blip during the ultrasound but only seeing flat lines. I still can’t believe I had to hear those words alone, while wearing a mask, and then call Jake (who was waiting in the car outside) to tell him the news.

Today is the first of the last painful 1-year anniversaries of the past year. The trio of them (13, 16, 21) is something I have been avoiding thinking too much about. I went to mass by myself this morning. It’s the Feast of the Ascension. I needed a reminder that my baby is with Jesus.

Friends (one known and one unknown) gave us flowers today. (And a gift card to DQ that we will use on Astrid’s birthday when we visit her grave.) Shecklet #4 also picked out mini roses to leave by her marker when we visit.

Marker in place

I ended up at the cemetery last Monday (3/29) while taking a walk with my friend’s littlest kiddo (so she could get some things done in her house.) We stopped to see Astrid’s grave and found that her marker had been placed. The warmer temps and melted snow must have made it possible for them to finally set it.

A wave of emotions hit me the moment I saw her name etched in granite. I was thankful that my companion was an almost one-year-old who didn’t question my tears or feel the need to comfort me. I was able to cry and feel the weight of the finality that was in front of me, alone. Astrid’s body’s final resting place is now marked for anyone who visits that part of the cemetery to see. Her earthly existence, though only physically felt by me and my family, is known. It’s a reality that is both comforting and hard at the same time.

ETA: On 4/7, my friend, Michelle, stopped at the cemetery with two of her boys to see Astrid’s marker and pray for our family. When I was talking to her later about the flowers beside the marker, she said someone else had left them prior to their visit. My grieving mama’s heart found comfort in knowing someone cared enough to notice my little girl and leave flowers. A simple gesture that means a lot.

Uncle & Nephew

During a brief shopping date to Fleet Farm, Jake came across this bowl and it reminded him of a photo of our nephew from last year.

We also have this photo of Shecklet #1 from when he was a similar age to our nephew. ☺️

And this one from Shecklet #3 taken when she was about 8 months old.

Remembrance roses 🌹

I took the roses I dried from Papa Dale’s and Astrid’s funerals and put them together in a shadow box. Not only will they no longer collect dust, but I don’t have to worry about them crumbling every time they get bumped.

There is a group of three mini roses in the corner that makes me think of my three girls 🌹🌹🌹

Watercolor tribute 🎨

During the month of October, a local artist, Bernadette Gockowski, offered to paint watercolor cards with the name (or names) for mothers of a baby (or babies) who died before they were born. I received our name card during Advent, which was a beautiful gift.

Decorating the tree 2020 🎄

The Shecklets decorated our Christmas tree tonight. They hung Astrid’s “A” ornament first.

The finished tree got two thumbs up from Shecklet #4.

Shecklet #3 also asked if we could hang a stocking for Astrid. We had an extra one (the white bear) that someone had given us the Christmas prior to Shecklet #1 joining us – but we ended up using a different one for him. It turns out it’s the perfect addition to our mantle this year.

6 months today…

Six months ago I heard the words, “no heartbeat.”

I don’t think I will ever forget the sadness and ache I felt inside as I laid in the ultrasound room alone while the ultrasound tech went to get the doctor. I sobbed inside my stupid mask, wishing Jake was with me.

Stupid virus.

All Souls Day 2020

We went to mass this morning to remember Astrid and hear her name read as part of the intentions during mass. Two of my girlfriends surprised us and joined us. Another friend sent me a photo of their family remembrance table where they pray for family and friends who have died. I am so grateful for the people who continue to pray for us and remember our sweet little girl.

Our parish gave us a candle with Astrid’s name on it after mass. I placed it alongside the Hope cross that my friend, Heidi, gave me after our miscarriage in 2009.