God at His Finest

I have started to write this post so many times—but as soon as I even begin to think of the appropriate words, my eyes become flooded with tears and I have to walk away. It’s a hard one to write as it takes me directly back to the day that I saw my baby’s face, touched her perfect skin, ran my fingers through her crazy hair…for the last time. Despite the pain it brings to go back to that day, the story that I want to share today is one that I have to document—I cannot risk forgetting even the smallest details (though I don’t think that I could if I tried.) Something happened that day that I don’t know if I will have words to adequately describe… (I apologize in advance for the length on this one!)

From the time that we found out about Charlotte’s heart I have used this blog to tell her story. Accounts of her trials, bravery and achievements reached people far and wide…but truth be told, this blog has always been more for Matt, Charlotte and myself than anyone else. It provided a way to document and reflect back on our crazy adventure, allowed me to vent/cry without having to do it face to face, it gave me a chance to brag about how A.W.E.S.O.M.E. my little girl was. I always intended for this to be something that I could share with Charlotte when she was older so that she could truly understand what a miracle she was.  I have shared her story since before she was born and even though I knew it would be difficult, I knew that I wanted to continue to share her with all of you...to heal my own heart. I used my words to document it all, and because of that, I knew that they had to be a part of the day we said “goodbye.”

The decision to speak at Charlotte’s memorial service was an easy one. I knew that I wanted to do it, but at the same time I feared…well…everything about the actual act. Could I do this? Would I fall apart? Would anyone be able to comprehend my words through the inevitable sniffles and sobs? Heck, would my legs even support me if I tried to stand?  Anticipating the worst, I wrote down what I hoped to say and graciously accepted when my sister volunteered to step in if needed. Then I prayed. I stood in the shower that morning with tears running down my face as I prayed for God to give me strength. I distinctly remember uttering the words, “God, I want to do this. I need to do this. But I know that it’s not possible without You. I need you to show me that I can. Please God, I need you to show me that I will be OK.”

God spoke to me in the most incredible way that morning…

Meet my brother-in-law Abe—Or as Charlotte knew him, Uncle Abe.

Abe is your average 12 year old boy.  He goes to school (though not always willingly!), has lots of friends, likes junk food, loves to go swimming.  He's always on the move and likes to do his own thing.  

When Abe was 2 years old he was diagnosed with Autism.  I had never been around an autistic child before Abe and to be honest, when I first met him, I wasn't quite sure how to act (this sounds TOTALLY silly now that I think back on it...he's just a kid after all!) I quickly got over my uncertainty and came to realize that the "autism" label does not define who Abe is...much like Charlotte's heart didn't define who she was.  There is so much more to Abe than his diagnosis.  He's a lovable goof with a great belly laugh, a determined spirit and a little ornery streak in him from time to time.  I'm sitting here smiling just thinking about it!

Charlotte (or ChaCha as Abe calls her) was enamored with Abe and when he was around, her eyes were LOCKED on him.

I LOVE this picture!

Look at her checking him out.

Ok, so maybe in this one she's more interested in the Pop-Tart, but she knew Abe was the one to go for if she was looking for yummy treats!

I'm pretty sure that this was the first time that they met!

The morning of Charlotte’s service (after my shower break-down) I found Abe sitting in his room…totally silent with a look on his face that told me something was "off". He looked at me and in that moment that I knew that he knew. I hadn’t been giving Abe the credit that he deserved, but right then and there I could tell that he was well aware of the grieving that was going on all around him…and he was grieving too. I went and sat next to him face-to-face on his bed and I talked about Charlotte. As I talked, Abe sat quietly and looked me straight in the eyes (for those of you who don’t know, eye contact is a big deal in kiddos with Autism). As if his insane attentiveness wasn't enough, somewhere in the midst of our conversation he picked up the charm on my necklace--a silver mended heart given to me by my friend Jill.  He held it in his hand and rubbed his thumb over it again and again before bringing the little silver heart to my lips for me to kiss.  Tears slowly started to pour down my cheeks and much to my amazement...sigh...Abe reached up and wiped them away with the back of his hand.  

I had to remind myself to breathe.

I looked over at my mother-in-law standing in the door way--She was just staring with tears in her eyes, obviously in just as much awe over the events taking place in front of her as I was.

I looked into Abe’s piercing blue eyes and I knew that this was the sign that I had begged for not an hour earlier.  I truly believe that God was showing Himself to me through Abe that morning.  He was telling me that despite my fears and uncertainty--

It was going to be okay. 
I was going to be okay. 
We were going to be okay.

I think of that moment with Abe often and am still as amazed by it today as I was 4 months ago.  Its definitely one of those times where I find myself smiling through the tears.  I am forever grateful.

Happy 17 months Baby girl!  Mommy and Daddy miss you like craziness and wish that we could give you some giant birthday hugs today.  Instead we'll be sending extra kisses to heaven.  I love you with all my heart little lady...all my heart.

Conquering Fears

Have you ever had one of those days where you are SO extremely excited for something but are equally terrified, nauseous and anxious about it all at the same time? I’m talking like a hard-core physical reaction from nerves here…not just some giddy nervous excitement.  It’s a crazy feeling but one that I have experienced quite a bit lately. Need an example? Remember when we took books to Children’s Hospital? I was so excited…SO, SO excited to be able to give back to the place that gave so much to our family and to see some familiar faces, but while driving there I had to fight my urge to do a U-turn in the middle of the interstate and drive back home. My hands were sweaty, I was breathing heavy, I may have even cried a little bit…maybe. The thought of walking into that building without my little girl conjured up a whole variety of emotions in me.

That day was hard, but I had one a few weeks back that may have surpassed it.

On Friday, September 23rd I made my first official trip to the Avera Children’s Specialty Clinic without little Charlotte. I hadn’t seen Dr. Sami (cardiologist) or his nurse Holly since the horrible day that we lost our little girl. I take that back…one day I saw Dr. Sami from a distance as he walked through the building where I work, and immediately my heart started pounding and I saw little spots in my vision. HA! If the sight of him from 50 feet away sent me into a panic, I could only imagine what sitting down with him face-to-face was going to be like! Bottom line, I was nervous as hell. But on the other hand I wanted this day so badly. The people in that clinic took care of me before they ever took care of Charlotte and in a crazy way, I missed them.

So why all of a sudden did I get up the courage to go back into a building that I knew was going to be so incredibly difficult???

A “Books for Charley” donation! Pretty good reason, right!?

That morning I loaded up a cart of books in my office (I work right next door) and rolled my way over to the clinic. Once again, my heart rate started to pick up (good thing I was going to a cardiology clinic!), my stomach started to churn and I fought the urge to turn and run. Ok…so maybe, just MAYBE there were some more tears. I walked through the front door and with a lump in my throat announced that I was there to drop off some books. I did it. I was IN the building!

From there it’s pretty much a blur. I spent an hour in the clinic that day, mostly talking to Dr. Sami and Holly. We talked about everything…life, Charlotte, the future. We talked about the amazing response we got for “Books for Charley” and about how some of Dr. Sami’s other patients actually contributed as well. We hugged, we cried, we laughed. It was a good day. A good, scary, exhausting day.

But now for the exciting news! We were able to donate an additional 195 books to the clinic! That brings the 2011 “Books for Charley” grand total to ONE THOUSAND TWO HUNDRED AND THIRTY FOUR BOOKS! Yes, 1234 books! And that’s not including about 300 books that were a little more “worn” and will be going to a local women’s and children’s shelter. You guys are SOOOOOOOOOO awesome and I can’t even begin to thank you enough!

I stopped by the clinic again this morning to drop off some more books. This time around I did it with my chin up. I wasn’t nervous, I wasn’t anxious, there were no tears. And when I got to the clinic, what did I see??

A little library in the waiting room! How awesome is that?!  (Sorry for the blurry cell phone pics)

What’s even more awesome? Check out the bottom shelf!

CHARLEY!

The clinic manager had the staff pick out a special little shelf that they could put our little girl's name on.  My heart totally melted when I saw this.  It couldn't be more perfect.  If any of you from the clinic read this...THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH!  I love that our little girl will continue to be a part of the clinic and hope that our little Charley library can bring smiles to the faces of lots and lots of kiddos!

As for "Books for Charley"...You haven't seen the last of us!  My plan as of now is to use this event as a way to continue celebrating the life of the Amazing Charlotte Delene Ritchie.  Look for the event to return in full force next May.  I've got all sorts of ideas bouncing around my head for round two!  If you have books that you wanted to donate before then, just let me know and we'll work something out.  I will never ever turn away donations!

What a lucky girl Charlotte was to have such amazing love surrounding her!

Tiny Pumpkins

Despite the unseasonably warm temperatures that we've been enjoying in South Dakota, I can see the tell-tale signs of Fall all around me. The trees are covered with vivid red and orange leaves, Halloween candy and costumes have taken over the stores, there is football on TV every Saturday and Sunday. Usually I love Fall, but this year the change of seasons finds me feeling empty and apathetic...


Last year we were enjoying Fall with Charlotte-- picking out her Halloween costume, cheering on the Huskers and Packers, taking trips to the local apple orchard so we could make homemade applesauce. This year I'm not quite sure what I'm supposed to do or how I'm supposed to feel. It's just not right.


Last October I read this blog post written by a fellow heart/angel mom, Kristine Brite-McCormick that depicted her similar struggle with this time of year. The post, appropriately titled "Smashing Pumpkins," described the dreams that she had of trips to the pumpkin patch with her daughter Cora...dreams that never had the chance to come to fruition as Cora was taken from her much to soon as a result of an undiagnosed heart defect. As I read Kristine's words my eyes welled up with tears.  A year ago couldn't even begin to imagine what she was feeling, but my heart ached for her none-the-less.


I read Kristine's post right away in the morning, and needless to say I wasn't very productive the rest of the day. I just couldn't stop thinking about Cora and her mom.  My wheels were turning and as soon as my work day was over was on a mission.  I picked up Charlotte from daycare and immediately set out to find the closest place that sold pumpkins.  Cora needed a pumpkin...


I'm not sure what I thought I was going to accomplish with this pumpkin. I knew that I wasn't going to fix anything for Kristine or take the sadness away from her, but something deep inside me wanted her little Cora to have a special pumpkin all her own.  I sent the picture below to Kristine hoping to at least elicit a smile...hoping that she would feel the love that we were sending her direction.

This weekend I found myself thinking of Kristine and Cora a lot.  I re-read Kristine's post from last year and was again overcome with emotion.  Last year I could only sympathize...this year, unfortunately, I can relate.  Precious Cora never got her own pumpkin, and the only one Charlotte had was the one we made for Cora.  


Two perfect little girls, one perfect little pumpkin...


To read more about Cora please visit Cora's Story.  Her life was cut short by an undiagnosed congenital heart defect, but through her mom's advocacy, Cora is saving lives!  THANK YOU, Kristine for all that you do, and for showing me everyday that though our lives will never be the same, we WILL survive this!

A Yankee Through and Through

This is kind of how I feel today.

Maybe next year Yankee fans.

Mr. Owen

Meet my nephew Owen.

Owen is a typical 4 year old boy.

He has a super-duper sweet side...

but also has one of the best “stink-faces” that I’ve ever seen.

He is ALL boy.  

Owen sporting a black eye right before family pictures.  

Yup, ALL boy.

His favorite singer?  Lady Gaga.

His favorite aunt?  Aunt Kristen.

(Hehe! Sorry other aunts!  I just tell it like I hear it...)

How did I gain the title "Favorite Aunt?"  I would like to say that it's because of how insanely cool or hilariously funny I am.  And while both of those things are true, I know deep down that there is one thing that pushed me to the top of the list.  

I'm Charlotte's mom!

It's true, I became a heck of a lot cooler in this little boys eyes when Miss Charlotte came into the picture.  Owen LOVED (and still loves!) “Baby Charlotte.”

Yes, I realize that all of my nephews and my niece loved little Charlotte, but something about “rough-and-tumble” Owen loving on our little girl could always make me smile.  He was smitten with her from day one and was always looking out for her.

Owen and Charlotte 7/2010 

 He had waited 3 whole months to hold Baby Charlotte and you can see the excitement in his face.

I will always remember when he shared his helicopter with her at Christmas.  He set it on her lap, looked at me with a very serious face and said, “Aunt Kristen, this toy is for big kids, not babies… (pause)...but Baby Charlotte can play with it anyway.”  

Not only did he share toys with Charlotte, he also shared his "meek" (a.k.a. blanket).  Charlotte and Owen had matching blankets…his red and hers green.  If Charlotte would start to cry you could always count on Owen to show up with the green blanket (or his red one if the other was no where to be found.)  He would calmly tuck it right up by her face--Owen knows from years of experience that a special blanket can make everything better. 

Owen may be the little brother in his house, but he definitely stepped into the big brother "protector" role when it came to our little girl.  He was well aware of the things that would make her cry and tried to make sure that didn't happen.  At the Congenital Heart Disease Awareness Banquet last year he stuck by her side because he knew that she got scared when there were lots of new people around.  I love this picture of him hovering beside her like her own personal bodyguard!

One of my favorite things was the look on Owen’s face when he would see Charlotte.  Tear.  He would get this bashful little grin on his face, but you could tell that on the inside he was SO excited. To this day there is still a sparkle in his eyes when I mention her name...she totally won his heart.

Two weekends ago I was back in Omaha and stopped by my sister’s house. As I was leaving Owen followed me outside where we ended up playing a little basketball (Translation: Owen shot the ball and I prevented it from rolling down the driveway). In between shots something in the grass caught his eye.

Owen: Aunt Kristen, it’s a butterfly! 

Me: Where? 

Owen: Right there in the grass! It’s a monarch.

Me: (smiling) You’re right smarty pants, it IS a monarch.

Owen: It’s tiny. I think it’s a baby!

Me: (catching my breath, smiling, fighting back tears) 

I think you’re right O-Boe. It’s a little baby butterfly…

I don't want to be the overly sentimental grieving mother who takes every gust of wind, ladybug, butterfly, etc. and turns it into a symbolic message from my angel daughter...but I have NEVER seen a monarch as teeny tiny as the one we saw that day.  How fitting that it little Owen that spotted it fluttering around in the yard as we were playing.

I pray that he keeps finding little baby butterflies dancing around him.

I pray that he forever carries the memory of little Charlotte with him.

I hope and pray that he knows that every time I see him, I think of her and smile.  

I love you O-Boe...and Baby Charlotte does too!

Section "C" Under the Tree...

Yesterday Matt got a phone call at work letting him know that Charlotte's headstone had been placed earlier in the day.  Again, one of those out of the blue events that can change the course of your whole day.  One phone call is all that it takes.

When I visited the cemetary this past weekend there was only a patch of fresh grass marking the place where we laid our little girl to rest.  No stone, no temporary marker...just a patch of grass and a bouquet of flowers that I brought along with me. 

This weekend when we go back it will all be different.  I'm not sure how I feel about that.

A headstone is an in-your-face reminder of our reality.  Our baby girl died...

A headstone is permanent.  She's not coming back...

A headstone hurts more than I had prepared for. 

 

 

A Change of Seasons

Last week felt like it was about three weeks long.

Monday was one of those days where I just wanted to hole up in my office and not have to talk to or make eye contact with anyone. The day started out okay, but about half way through the morning I hit a wall and could totally feel myself shutting down. I’m pretty sure that I cried for about 4 hours…

What was it about that day?

I know I don’t need an explanation—I have a pretty justifiable reason to have bad days, but I am always curious how a totally normal and routine day can all of a sudden turn into a boo-hoo, I want to go home kind of day.

It seems to be happening to me a lot lately…and the only explanation that I have is the change of seasons.

Cool, gloomy days = Fall
Fall = Halloween and Thanksgiving
Fall = One season closer to Winter
Winter = Christmas and New Years

Four big “celebration” days…two of which fall on the 31st of the month…nothing like a little salt in the wound.

So yeah, I’ve been a grump lately. I think that my brain is trying to ease me into the craptastic (Yes, I just said craptastic) few months that are looming ahead of me.

I miss our little girl every minute of every day—some days it’s a dull ache in my heart, others it stings like its brand new.

Last week was a stinger…