Capture your grief, Day 1, Sunrise

This year I am once again participating in the Carly Marie Healing Project, 31 days of healing.  For those of you that don't know, October and more specifically October 15th is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month.  So for each day of this month, I will be posting photos and blog entries corresponding with the theme for each day, to further heal, and remember my daughter Kayla.  To read more about the project, go here http://carlymarieprojectheal.com/capture-your-grief-2015.

So Day 1 is to watch the sunrise and post a picture.  I admit, I cheated a little.  I had good intentions to get up an hour earlier than I usually do to watch the sunrise and reflect.  But Emily woke me up at 5:15 this morning, soaking wet.  So after changing her, snuggling her and stripping her sheets, I crawled back into bed and was not aware of anything until my husband came home and woke me up.

That being said, seeing as how I am not a morning person, I enlisted a back up.  My husband works midnight's, and is therefore bright eyed and bushy tailed (not really, but he is awake) for the sunrise, so he so kindly took this picture for me.  Plus, he is my partner in grief, he is the only other person on this earth that knows exactly what I feel for Kayla, so I thought it fitting (and my rationale that I am not cheating) that he participate as well by watching the sunrise.

So here it is, from Ann Arbor, Mi at 7:31am.

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So as I said, Miss Em woke me up, wailing this morning because she was no doubt cold and miserable.  Since it is finally starting to act like fall around here, our house has been a chilly 65 degrees in the morning, probably even colder at that time of morning.  It took me a few minutes to realize through my sleepy fog that this was a distress cry and that it was very early, unlike her 8am cries telling me it is time to get up.

Emily doesn't too often wake me in the middle of the night, so when she does I know she is either wet, poopy, had a nightmare or something of the sort.  I assumed she was wet because I didn't put an overnight diaper on her last night when we got home from Nana and Papa's.  I knew better, but she actually fell back to sleep on my shoulder when I got her out of her car seat.  That almost never happens, so I wanted to take advantage of being able to put her right to bed.  I hoped that just maybe she hadn't drank enough to soak through the diaper she had on, but no such luck.

If I had to choose one thing I remember most about my mom, it would be how comforting she was.  My dad and I give each other a hard time, we make fun of each other, we take shots at each other, and he always kicked my butt to be a stronger, more successful person.  I needed it, I owe 90% of who I am today to him.  But just as important was my mom's warm, comforting nature.  She was the one I could go to after a bad day, to tell me what I wanted to hear, for a hug that just made you feel good from your nose to your toes.  She was the one that scared the boogeymen away and comforted me when I cried, instead of telling me to suck it up.

I hope to have both of those traits in me to give to my daughter, both the comfort when she needs it, and the ass kicking when she needs it.  So this morning when I went in and she was crying her eyes out, she instantly stopped when I came in and quickly and desperately got up and held her arms out to me, I was more than happy to snuggle her and make her comfy once again.  I got her out of her wet diaper and jammies, cleaned her off with wipes, baby powdered her so she was instantly dry, and got a fresh pair of fleece jammies on her.

Then I gave her some snuggles, and stripped off the top wet layer of her sheets.  I tucked her back in bed, gave her Kayla bear to snuggle, covered her with a blanket and got her another bottle.  I stroked her hair, told her I loved her and cranked up the lullabye music on her lamb.  I could just feel how warm and dry and comforted she must have felt right then.  It brought back good memories of being comforted by my mother, and even better feelings of comforting my daughter.  I crawled back into my warm bed and drifted back to sleep.  I feel for parents who get woken up often in the middle of the night, but because it happens so rarely around here, I actually cherish those nights that my daughter's cries wake me up because she needs me.  Knowing I took care of her and made her feel better, and then I am able to go back to sleep myself...it's pretty nice.