Monday, January 23, 2012

When God decides to keep an Angel...

Four years ago today, the Lord decided to keep an Angel.

My sister was 8 months pregnant and went to the hospital because she hadn't felt her baby moving. Lucy Q was born on January 22, 2008 at 4:59 AM. Unlike most babies, Lucy Q was born sleeping. Lucy wasn't able to come into this world to see all the people who were waiting for her arrival, the ones who'd spent months anticipating and patiently waiting to see her eyes and her smile.

I moved to Seattle on March 4, 2008 after Lucy's birth, to be closer to my sister. This was the first time in my life that I made a move that was for someone other than myself. To this day, my sister's strength amazes me. I can honestly say that I don't know that I would have survived what she did.

I posted a blog on my Myspace page right before I left Washington back to Honolulu, and with the permission of my sister, I am posting this again.

  • Jan 25, 2008
Current mood: sad

"What do you say in a moment like this, when you can't find the words to tell it like it is. Just close your eyes and let your heart lead the way. What do you say?"

I'm finding it hard to know what to say. I'm finding it hard to keep from crying. I'm finding it hard to be strong. I'm finding it hard to even go about my day.

When someone you know passes away, it's hard to know what to say, how to feel and how to go on. But when it's a child that passes away, it makes the pain unbearable. Children are supposed to bring happiness and joy to our lives. Children are supposed to remind us to stay young and look at things from a different point of view. But how are we supposed to react when a child isn't even given the opportunity to do those things. How are we supposed to react when a child isn't even given the opportunity to say hello to the world?

This last week has been a whirlwind of emotion. From finding out on Monday that I would never be able to hold my little niece, to sitting here now as my brother-in-law comforts my sister. I'm trying to be strong. I'm trying not to cry in front of my sister. But it's not easy to be strong when you can see so much hurt on someone's face. It's not easy to be strong when all you want to do is breakdown and ask a million questions.

Why? Why did this happen? Why wasn't this wonderful little angel allowed to come into the world to greet us? What can I do to help ease the pain that my sister and brother-in-law are feeling? How do I manage to be strong while grieving myself?

The one saving grace for all of us has been my nephew Owen. He's walking around here making us smile, reminding us that there is life in this world. And he's helping us to manage to go on. Right now as I'm typing he's running around the living room with a flashlight like a wildman. How can you not smile?

No matter what, this has been a tough week, and it's not going to get any easier. At the service yesterday the pastor made a great analogy. "Every now and then on a rose bush there is a bud, it fully forms but never opens up. It has nothing to do with the gardener or the people around it. It just never opens up and displays itself for the world, but instead stays closed and fades away." Just like that rosebud my niece never opened up for us to see. They say everything happens for a reason, but it's easy right now to wonder what that reasoning is.

I leave on Tuesday back for Hawaii, this won't be easy. But it will ease my mind knowing that on March 4th I will be back on a plane for Seattle, this time for good.

I just ask that anyone reading this take a moment to say a little prayer not only for my sister and my family...but for all the mothers out there who are going through this same thing. Pray for strength to go on, and the courage to face the day without their precious child.
In memory of
Lucy Q.
January 22, 2008
I love you little angel.

Tonight I read my old Myspace blog post to Mike and I didn't make it through the reading. I couldn't help but cry when I got to the part about the look on my sister's face. I can, to this day, still see the look; the look of grief and shock. That look will be with me forever.

I asked my sister if it would be okay to repost this blog. She responded by saying how important it IS to spread the word about babies who are born sleeping, or stillborn. That it can happen to anyone. Lucy died because the umbilical cord was twisted at the placenta, so she wasn't able to get the oxygen and nutrients she needed

My sister was also gracious enough to share the following pictures:

My sister, pregnant, with the hat I made for Lucy Q.
After I moved to Seattle, my sister asked me if I would take the hat I knit for Lucy and unravel it and make it into a small blanket that she could wrap around her ashes. After several weeks and several failed attempts, I finally knit a small blanket that I felt was worthy of the need.

Lucy Q after her birth.
My sister and her husband were one of the first families to be involved in the program at Harrison that allowed them to spend time with their child, along with having pictures taken for them to keep. Such an amazing experience for a grieving family, and one that I feel lucky enough to be a part of because of my sister's generosity.

A picture I took at Lucy's service. Her ashes are in the center.

An amazing woman in Australia, who herself lost a child, will write your child's name in the sand during the sunset at Christian's Beach (A beach she named after her son). This is such an amazing thing to see my niece's name in the sand while the sun is setting in the distance. If you want to know more about how to get this done e-mail me, and I'll send you her blog.

My sister keeps Lucy's memory alive by doing many things. Writing her name on flower petals, writing her name on balloons with messages for her to let go. Little things...these keep her memory alive.  

This year, in memory of Lucy, my sister made and decorated cupcakes. I love the fact that a butterfly symbolizes my niece. Just like a butterfly, my she fluttered into our lives and was something so amazing, but didn't stay for long. She is such an amazing little person that forever touched our lives, but sadly, will not be here with us.

Since Lucy was born, my sister has had two more children. Both of whom are just as amazing and precious to me as Lucy and her older brother.

My life has been changed by the death of my niece. I am forever imprinted upon that life should not be taken for granted. At any moment it can be taken from us or our children. I know that she doesn't want me to portray her as this, but my sister is such a strong and amazing person. She has not only moved forward from this, but she has also managed to raise her three children while still keeping alive the memory of Lucy.

Stillbirth is something that happens on a daily basis, and can happen to anyone. If you know someone who has given birth to a sleeping child, acknowledge it. Let them know that you are there for them. And help them to celebrate the child who isn't with them. It's okay, even though their child isn't living, they are still a VERY important part of their life, for however many months they felt their child growing inside of them and kicking and moving.

I love you Lucy Q. And to my amazing sister, I love you so much! You are such a strong person and I can only hope that I have 1/2 the amount of strength you have.

The foot prints of Lucy Q.

**Thank you to my AMAZING sister for sending and allowing me to post these pictures. Your strength and courage overwhelms me.**


  1. Thank you for posting this & thank you for being there for me. I couldn't ask for a better or more supportive brother. I love you.

  2. one of the most sad n beautiful stories I have ever read..

  3. What a touching story you share. I thank you and your sister. I will forever remember the name Lucy Q and smile when I see a butterfly in memory of your angel. Love, prayers and hugs to you all.

  4. You have truly said it all. I am just praying that God continues to bless your loving heart and your beautiful family