It's weird because in many ways it feels like it was much longer ago, but at the same time seems like it was yesterday.
It's been a tough few months with plenty of peaks and troughs. As they say, grief is not linear - one minute you're coping the best and the next you're in the midst of a complete breakdown. Wondrously, the breakdown's have been few and far between. As it turns out, we are much stronger than we ever thought we could have been. If you didn't already know, you'd probably never guess that we'd been through so much.
Losing Hallie has cemented and strengthened our relationship to a level we never thought possible, particularly as the Universe seems intent on throwing all that it can at us recently. We have found great comfort in each other and it's a wonderful feeling to know that if we can survive this, we can almost certainly survive anything else that comes our way. There was a quote in our wedding vows that read "Despair will come, find someone that you want to be there with you through those times" and Michael most certainly was and is that person and I am so, so lucky to have him.
It didn't take long, once we were back to work, for daily life to resume back to basically how it had been before I was even pregnant. Of course, it's not exactly the same. It never really will be, I suppose. From the outside, our lives look pretty much the same as before but on the inside it's just that little bit harder to swing our legs out of bed in the morning. The accumulation of everything that's happened weighs on our backs, making everything seem a little heavier. But I can see the spark reigniting each and every day that we conquer. There will forever be a "before" and an "after" - that's normal after any traumatic event, but we are powering through rightly and will continue to do so. We are adjusting to our new normal and I'm proud of how we're coping.
On the day that Hallie was diagnosed and we had a fair idea of how things were going to go, I remember a conversation that Michael and I had about not letting any of this define us. It's a conversation we've had many times over the past 6 months and something we feel very strongly about. We believe that our losses are only small squares on the giant patchwork of our lives to date - they do not define us, we are still Michael and Rachel. Our journey is still continuing. This hasn't beaten us. We've had some awful things happen to us along the way, but we are much, much more than what we have lost.
All I hope for is that people will forever acknowledge my daughter as the adorable, tiny warrior that she was and learn from her. Be inspired by her. I cannot stand when people focus solely on the fact that she died - Hallie was so much more than just a baby who died, she lived and she fought and she was the most amazing little soul I've ever met. Every time someone head tilt/sad face's me I want to shake them. We want you to smile when you think of Hallie. We couldn't be more proud of her, we think of her fondly, we coo at our photographs of her and talk about her often. She's always going to be part of our lives and part of our family and we'd love nothing more than that to be remembered.
In the past 6 months, in Hallie's memory, we have achieved some wonderful things. Firstly, we set out to raise £300 for 4Louis to provide 10 memory boxes for 10 sets of bereaved parents in the UK. To our surprise, within 24 hours we had reached £1000 and our total is now currently at £2268! That's an incredible 75 memory boxes. In fact, we raised enough to purchase other items too - vital equipment for bereavement suites in hospitals all over the country. We are, of course, still collecting donations here and will continue to do so for the foreseeable.
This Christmas, thanks to incredible support, we were able to deliver a donation of beautifully knitted hats (of all sizes and gestations), premature baby clothes and blankets to the Ulster Hospital Maternity Ward where Hallie was born. We can't believe how many friends, family and strangers got their knitting needles out - donations flooded in from as far afield as Canada! Michael delivered the donation to the Hospital along with a giant bag of Christmas goodies for the Midwives (again funded by kind donations.) We know first hand how important those knitted items will be for both premature and bereaved parents; please never underestimate how appreciated your donation is. I promise, it's all gone to the most amazing and worthwhile cause. In fact, we are able to make TWO donations thanks to the high volume of knitwear we received. A second donation will be made to the Children's Hospital in the Royal Victoria Hospital in Belfast very soon.
It's been a tough few months with plenty of peaks and troughs. As they say, grief is not linear - one minute you're coping the best and the next you're in the midst of a complete breakdown. Wondrously, the breakdown's have been few and far between. As it turns out, we are much stronger than we ever thought we could have been. If you didn't already know, you'd probably never guess that we'd been through so much.
Losing Hallie has cemented and strengthened our relationship to a level we never thought possible, particularly as the Universe seems intent on throwing all that it can at us recently. We have found great comfort in each other and it's a wonderful feeling to know that if we can survive this, we can almost certainly survive anything else that comes our way. There was a quote in our wedding vows that read "Despair will come, find someone that you want to be there with you through those times" and Michael most certainly was and is that person and I am so, so lucky to have him.
It didn't take long, once we were back to work, for daily life to resume back to basically how it had been before I was even pregnant. Of course, it's not exactly the same. It never really will be, I suppose. From the outside, our lives look pretty much the same as before but on the inside it's just that little bit harder to swing our legs out of bed in the morning. The accumulation of everything that's happened weighs on our backs, making everything seem a little heavier. But I can see the spark reigniting each and every day that we conquer. There will forever be a "before" and an "after" - that's normal after any traumatic event, but we are powering through rightly and will continue to do so. We are adjusting to our new normal and I'm proud of how we're coping.
On the day that Hallie was diagnosed and we had a fair idea of how things were going to go, I remember a conversation that Michael and I had about not letting any of this define us. It's a conversation we've had many times over the past 6 months and something we feel very strongly about. We believe that our losses are only small squares on the giant patchwork of our lives to date - they do not define us, we are still Michael and Rachel. Our journey is still continuing. This hasn't beaten us. We've had some awful things happen to us along the way, but we are much, much more than what we have lost.
All I hope for is that people will forever acknowledge my daughter as the adorable, tiny warrior that she was and learn from her. Be inspired by her. I cannot stand when people focus solely on the fact that she died - Hallie was so much more than just a baby who died, she lived and she fought and she was the most amazing little soul I've ever met. Every time someone head tilt/sad face's me I want to shake them. We want you to smile when you think of Hallie. We couldn't be more proud of her, we think of her fondly, we coo at our photographs of her and talk about her often. She's always going to be part of our lives and part of our family and we'd love nothing more than that to be remembered.
In the past 6 months, in Hallie's memory, we have achieved some wonderful things. Firstly, we set out to raise £300 for 4Louis to provide 10 memory boxes for 10 sets of bereaved parents in the UK. To our surprise, within 24 hours we had reached £1000 and our total is now currently at £2268! That's an incredible 75 memory boxes. In fact, we raised enough to purchase other items too - vital equipment for bereavement suites in hospitals all over the country. We are, of course, still collecting donations here and will continue to do so for the foreseeable.
This Christmas, thanks to incredible support, we were able to deliver a donation of beautifully knitted hats (of all sizes and gestations), premature baby clothes and blankets to the Ulster Hospital Maternity Ward where Hallie was born. We can't believe how many friends, family and strangers got their knitting needles out - donations flooded in from as far afield as Canada! Michael delivered the donation to the Hospital along with a giant bag of Christmas goodies for the Midwives (again funded by kind donations.) We know first hand how important those knitted items will be for both premature and bereaved parents; please never underestimate how appreciated your donation is. I promise, it's all gone to the most amazing and worthwhile cause. In fact, we are able to make TWO donations thanks to the high volume of knitwear we received. A second donation will be made to the Children's Hospital in the Royal Victoria Hospital in Belfast very soon.
All in all, the past 6 months have been a great test in strength, resilience and patience. We have great aspirations for 2019/2020 with lots to look forward to. It would be absolutely wonderful if Hallie sent us a little brother or sister this year - a new pregnancy would be incredibly scary for us for obvious reasons - but we will be wishing for a healthy "rainbow baby" on every birthday candle, shooting star and rogue eyelash this year!
Michael and I are hoping and wishing for a peaceful, positive year for all of us.
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