365 Photo Project :: day 306 december 24 :: Letters to Sabrina

Dear Sabrina...all the things that remind me of you.

Happy 4th Birthday

photo of the day: flowers delivered for you

 

Happy fourth birthday Sabrina!  

Today we celebrated your sweet little life.  As tradition we brought flowers, balloons (one for each year), and handmade cards to your grave site.  The kids tenderly laid the flowers and cards as we sang "Happy Birthday."  

Sophia excitedly let her balloon go and watched it fly away to you.  Abigail tied hers to a stick and placed it near your graveside.  But Ethan just couldn't let go and so he brought his home with him.  Watching my little ones with those balloons made me reflect on how each of us deal with grief differently and gave me a glimpse into their hearts.  

We completed our celebration with vanilla cupcakes dusted with candy cane sprinkles.  A dear friend prayed for "precious moments, beautiful surprises, and deep comfort."  These are the gifts God gave us today on your birhtday.  We love you and miss you every day.  

love,

Mommy

december 23 :: Letters to Sabrina

Dear Sabrina...all the things that remind me of you.

Poem 3  ::  from Daddy

photo of the day:  silence fell

Return Home

Silence fell

as I drove home,

the crushing weight

of no baby 

to bring 

to our house,

empty arms

as I walked up the

icy steps,

to an empty 

home.

"Is it ok?" Abbey asks,

"Is everything alright?"

I don't have the heart,

to tell her.

"We need to go to

the hospital,"

I said.

Her eyes 

lit up,

she grabbed 

Ethan's

hand,

we headed back 

to

the hospital.

I don't have the heart.

The drive 

is silent,

the hallway

is still.

Outside

the door

I explained -

too late -

something

was not right,

something 

went wrong,

we have no little girl,

she's

not coming

home. 

The doors open,

pain sets in,

my kids 

experience 

for the first time

what 

I've been 

walking through

all night,

our Father

for 

eternity.

It is too much,

a silent baby,

wrapped in swaddling

clothes, on 

Christmas morning,

arms stiffening,

the morgue

coming, to take 

you,

away.

Ethan reached out

to touch her

hand.

We returned home,

smaller, 

quieter,

to face the rest

of our lives,

without you,

even, though

you'll always

be 

with us.

To, my little Sabrina.

With love, your Daddy.

365 Photo Project :: day 304 december 22 :: letters to Sabrina

Dear Sabrina...all the things that remind me of you.

Poem 2  ::  from Daddy

photo of the day:  slipping away

Long Night

Every minute

I spent with 

you 

was not enough.

Even though,

the seconds

became 

minutes,

the minutes

became hours.

Large glass windows

looking over the city.

After the pushing

and the bleeding

we held you,

as if

you were alive,

you're skin peeling

off

so delicate,

you're life

slipped away,

for us,

still slipping.

There is no moment

more vivid

in my mind

than the 

few

hours, I spent

holding you,

wrapped in a 

blanket,

singing silent

night,

looking over 

the city

as 

it slept,

unaware.

It was a world

away,

a fantasy,

an entire universe,

of time 

with you.

I could 

stay

here, forever.

Eventually 

the morning

would come

and 

I must face

the 

reality, that

you 

are no longer,

here.

365 Photo Project :: day 303 december 21 :: letters to Sabrina

Dear Sabrina...all the things that remind me of you.

Poem 1  ::  from Daddy

photo of the day:  a long sad night

Journey in the Snow

Venturing 

out

on icy

steps,

the bus comes

to take

you

away.

Abbey is

suited for the snow,

standing

next to her

brother

Ethan, with

his sunglasses

on.

We are trapped,

in a snow

storm.

You were caught

up 

in heaven,

even though

we 

didn't know.

The doctor's office,

the phone call,

the car ride,

an old toyota,

on 

the snow.

We've lost 

our

baby.

At the hospital,

they put us

in 

a room,

furthest from

the 

other mothers.

You'd already,

gone.

We'd 

begun 

one of the longest,

most memorable 

nights 

of 

our lives.

december 20 :: Letters to Sabrina

Dear Sabrina...all the things that remind me of you.

from Auntie Anne

Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow;
Praise Him, all creatures here below;
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host;
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

 Sabrina, every time I hear this song I am brought back to that chilly afternoon, gathered around your tiny coffin.  I am reminded that in spite of their great loss, your parents praised God.  In life many people are angry with God and become bitter when life’s circumstances turn their world on end.  Couples divorce when they bury a child; the strain and devastation is just too great.  Instead, I watched over the next few months and years as your parents drew closer to each other and deepened in their faith.  Praise God from whom all blessings flow.  Even so, I will praise you.  Even so, you are faithful.  The Doxology has become my rock and a reminder of His great love for us.  God, you are faithful and worthy to be praised.

I still remember the evening your mom called me and told me you were gone.  I was on a break at work and there was a voicemail on my phone.  When I saw the missed call, I thought, ‘how sweet Nancy is calling to wish me a Merry Christmas.’  My family was over at our friends’ house and I was stuck working on Christmas Eve.  When I spoke with your mom on the phone, we just cried together.  They excused me from work those last few hours, because I couldn’t stop crying.  You were gone, our sweet Sabrina.        

Your cousin, Elizabeth, and I had already bought tickets to come and meet you after you were born.  Elizabeth had even saved up her own money and purchased her very own plane ticket.  She was sad that she would not be able to cuddle with a new baby, but instead she provided play time and affection for Ethan and Abbey who missed you very much.  

I do not understand why you had to leave us so early.  A friend of mine had almost the exact same due date as your mommy.  Each week at church I would watch her belly grow and imagine your mom’s belly growing in Portland.  Whenever I saw her belly, I would smile, thinking of you.  In January, when my friend had her baby girl, Sophia, I felt your loss.  Over the years, I have watched her daughter grow, and I am reminded of how old you would be now.

Through all of this, the most precious gift that I have received is the friendship that I now have with your mom and the strength of her faith that encourages me daily.  Sabrina, you were a gift.  One that we wish we could have held onto much longer, but your life has given birth to faith and friendship, beauty and grace.  

      

365 Photo Project :: day 301 december 19 :: Letters to Sabrina

Dear Sabrina...all the things that remind me of you.

from Grandma Karan

photo of the day:  presents from Grandma Karan

Writing letters has become somewhat of a lost art.  Gone are the days when the only way to communicate with faraway loved ones was long narratives sent by the postal service.  Depending on the mode of travel, some news may take months to arrive.  Now we can keep up on all the latest with a few key strokes and a click.  But today, I find myself writing to someone who is not so accessible.

What do you say to a granddaughter you never held, or hugged, or kissed.  Who is a sad memory of a Christmas Eve as you listened to her mother, your beloved daughter's cries.  A grandmother who has felt that same piercing loss of a child.  What do you say?

Perhaps you tell her that this is your favorite time of the year, when giving becomes part of the atmosphere.  When despite the hectic pace of modern life, an individual will smile and wish you a "Merry Christmas".  That you always think of her, especially during this season.  That you cry and feel sad.  Yet despite the sadness, I want to thank her for her gift, the gift of compassion, of empathy and of learning to share loss.  

Because of you Sabrina, those who waited for your arrival, have learned to cry with those who cry.  This is an invaluable gift and only a special few individuals can give this.  

You have left us with an incredible legacy. Thank you, Sabrina.  And I trust in my heart that you are enjoying time with your Aunt Mary Margaret and Great-grandma Baker.  

Much love always,

Grandma Karan  

365 Photo Project :: day 300 december 18 :: Letters to Sabrina

Dear Sabrina...all the things that remind me of you.

your name

Sabrina Margot Bates
(Tink, Brina)

Sabrina means princess 

Margot means pearl

Sabrina we decided on your name Thanksgiving morning.  I love that your name is a beautiful image of heaven.  You are a royal princess, an adopted daughter of God.  Even before you were formed in my womb, God knew you and loved you.  

You are like a pearl, a lovely jewel, a precious treasure, and now you are in his kingdom, in heaven.  Your name reminds me of the goodness of God and that he has welcomed us into his family.  We are treasured by him and one day we will be together when I too pass through those pearly gates.  

made by Auntie Anne

Tink is from Abbey and Ethan.  They called you by this name when I was pregnant with you.  They thought we should name you Tinker Bell.  

Brina is what Sophia calls you, how sweet that even she has a nickname for you.

365 Photo Project :: day 299 december 17 :: Letters to Sabrina

Dear Sabrina...all the things that remind me of you.

from Abigail

Dear Brina, 

If you were alive, 

I would play with you and 

Phia all day long.  

And draw pictures with you

love, 

Abigail 

365 Photo Project :: day 298 december 16 :: Letters to Sabrina

Dear Sabrina...all the things that remind me of you.

baby book filled with cards

In the months we waited for you, I nested.  We painted the attic walls and set up a space for you. Daddy put together the white crib and I bought new pink flower sheets.  We filled your dresser drawers with tiny girl clothes.  I loved washing and folding and remembering when Abigail was so small.  I added warm winter snuggly pieces.  We hung art on the walls and made a place to welcome you.  

In our room, we set up a co-sleeper for those first few months.  I packed hospital bags...one for me and one for you.  I sewed burp cloths and blankets and waited for you.  

After you died, we slowly put things away.  There were some things that went quickly like your car-seat.  It reminded me that you didn't come home from the hospital on Christmas morning.  There were other things that were comforting and stayed with us for a while.   And some that waited for another baby.  I slept for months holding onto a little pink hat of yours. 

I filled a yellow box they gave me at the hospital with your things:  your beautiful lock of strawberry blond hair, your prints, pressed petals from the funeral, hospital tags.  

When I saw your baby book, it made me so sad. The first few pages were full of the promises of a new life.  The rest were empty reminders of all the firsts that would never happen.  

So I began filling it with all of the cards given to us after you died.  Your baby book is filled with words from Grandpa Ed and Auntie Anne, and family and friends from Idaho, Arizona, Montana, Washington, and Oregon.  Your book is full of the people who loved you.  The pages are no longer empty.  Your baby book is filled with cards.       

365 Photo Project :: day 297 december 15 :: Letters to Sabrina

Dear Sabrina...all the things that remind me of you.

dear friends from Bellingham

We were new to Portland that year.  We arrived in January with the grey rainy winter days.   Then spring brought the most lovely white and pink blossoms and news of you.  

What a surprise, a beautiful sweet surprise.  We were just a few months away from trying for you and there you were.  I was giddy with the news and gave your Daddy a secret smile on Mother's Day.  

Our first year in Portland was lonely, and that loneliness grew when you left, each year a little more.

There were so many things I didn't want to think about after you were gone and decisions to make.  Decisions I never thought I would have to make, like how to say good-bye.  

We decided on a simple graveside ceremony with a few dear friends and family.  We invited our community from Bellingham and they said yes...yes they would be with us to say good-bye.  With joy they welcomed Abigail and Ethan into the world and with tears they would see you depart.  

Knowing we would be surrounded by friends gave us strength.  A strength I did not have on my own.  And then flooding waters covered the highways between Bellingham and Portland and I felt as though I were drowning.  Our hearts dropped and we cried out, "God, how can we face this alone.  Please make a way."    

Our hearts hurt.  There was nothing we could do but pray and trust God.  Trust him in all things, even in saying goodbye.

The morning of the memorial I awoke with a strength that was not my own.  I read and cuddled with Abigail and Ethan.  My sister arranged flowers and Abraham announced that the roads were clear and friends were coming.  Smiles spread across our faces even though our hearts felt such sadness.  We would not be alone.  "Praise God!"    

I will never forget the love they showered on  our family that day.  Every hug touched my heart.  Later I would read their cards and the loneliness wouldn't hurt quite as much.

We laid you to rest at Lone Fir Cemetery on Saturday, January 10th at 2 in the afternoon.  When I think of our friends from Bellingham, I remember you and saying goodbye.

december 14 :: Letters to Sabrina

Dear Sabrina...all the things that remind me of you.

winters snow

Portland was snowed in the day you arrived.  When it snows your dad and I meet eye to eye with glistening tears.  We will always think of you when the first snow falls.  The night we found out we were having another baby, your sister Charlotte, the snow fell and you were with us.