Remembering Eloise Estelle

Happy birthday Eloise! It’s hard to believe we have been through an entire year since you came into this world, surrounded by nothing but love. Our hearts were broken, our eyes full of tears, but only because we wanted to have you in our lives. Our world had been turned upside down just a couple days earlier when we heard your tiny heart didn’t have a beat. It’s not easy not having you here in our arms, not seeing you grow up, crawl around at our house, keep me up at night and all the things we would have gotten to do with you in your first year.

Your sister misses you too. Vivienne loves to play around the house with you. We all know you’re around. In the past few days when I was in London I felt your presence multiple times. I never leave the house without your footprints around my neck.

Your mom is one of the strongest people I know, but I know you know that from the time you two had together. Look, it wasn’t easy watching mom struggle through her pregnancy with you, and it hasn’t been easy in the past year on either of us, living without you. Mom and I have tough days, we do, but we’ve made it through this together.

I love to visit your spot when I can and talk to you. I know Viv brought you a balloon. She hopes you enjoyed your Christmas present that she gave you. She picked it out just for you! I know I didn’t get to see you that often at your spot, but you know with my new job I’ll have more time to spend at home with mom, with Viv and to come see you if I need to.  Every time I leave your spot I tell you thank you for letting me be your dad. It’s hard to not have you here because I think about who you would be.

I was in London this week thinking about you, about the year we’ve spent without you, and mainly how you’d be running around our house now, causing mischief with Viv and the pups—probably driving mom and myself a little crazy! You know mom and I love music and we think about you through music often (I know when I landed in NYC from Cincinnati on the first leg of my journey that the song that came on first when I was getting off the plane came from you). The song I can’t help but share on your birthday is from Kenny Chesney: “Who You’d Be Today.”

I always think about who you’d be today, how you’d have changed our lives and how you would have made me a better dad. I guess though, even though you were born sleeping, you’ve made me a better dad—even if I struggle quite a bit with Viv or with other things. You’ve made me realize there’s more to life than just running around all the time. You’ve taught me to look for deeper meaning in places I’d have never thought about. You taught me about love in ways I never knew I could love.

We miss you every day. We miss seeing you grow up. We miss having you around, laughing, causing mischief (let’s be honest, you’d have to live up to your name! Hi, it’s me Eloise!) and making us laugh and love even deeper. I miss being able to read you a bedtime story every night and getting to hold you as you fall asleep.

Life isn’t fair. I know we wish we could have brought you into this world happy and healthy, smiling like your sister. One year ago today was not a fun day. I cried more than I’ve ever cried in my life. But today, as I sit back and look around, I don’t want to cry unhappy tears but happy ones. I want to celebrate your life and your memory. I want to cut some cake just like you’re here with us, because we know you’re with us every day.

I miss you Eloise. I love you. Thanks for letting me be your dad. I’ll never forget everything you taught me in your time with us, and all the things you continue to teach me as I learn to live without you here. Take care of me, mom, Viv and all the other people who loved you so much.

Happy 1st Birthday Baby Girl

Love, Dad

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve written, or felt compelled to write to you. I just learned though of another couple who just lost their baby boy. It sent me spiraling right back to that night we learned we’d lost you my peanut. I haven’t been blank stairs and stuck in a loop of PTSD for a while now but learning that last night brought me right back to the couch when we came home from your 28 week appointment. My world stopped spinning.

Today hasn’t been too much better. I’ve been able to be present for Vivienne but when I’m not with her I find myself drifting off to the land of PTSD. I haven’t been stuck in just the ultra sound room though. I’ve been everywhere…just running the whole horrible experience over and over in my head. I feel for them and I feel for me at the same time. It’s an odd space to be in. No one should have to suffer the loss of their child ever… but I so freshly know the pain, grief, guilt, anger, and the feeling of falling face first on to rock bottom.

My heart just aches for them, it’s stirred all the illogical thoughts again. I woke up hoping that news was just a dream, like I did the morning I went to the hospital to have you sweet baby. I’ll never understand why such horrible things happen to the best people. It just is not fair. It truly seems that if you want to have a happy healthy baby – just do it all wrong!

I’m so mad and frustrated for them, and us but I want to be there for them and be strong for them. It just seems so wrong that there’s only a degree of separation between us to have this happen. I’ve written before that you never know when your story could become someone else’s survival guide. It just seems so so unfair though. I want to go and support them but I’m not so stupid as to think that going to a baby’s funeral isn’t going to be INCREDIBLY difficult for me.

Acceptance is hard, moving forward in life is hard. I feel like I’ve been knocked back into that head space of learning how precious life is and how quickly it can change. Wrap me in your love Eloise. Mommy needs it today and in the days to come. I know you’re with me, but help me feel you.

Love, Mommy

It’s been a hard week and it’s only Wednesday. Monday sweet baby was not your due date but it was always the day you’d be arriving. Mommy was evicting you if you’d not decided on a more grand entrance prior to March 27, 2023. That day will forever be painful for mommy and daddy. I hope one day it becomes a day that we find it in us to celebrate but I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do that, peanut.

This week has been compounded by a waiting game not only with potential insurance changes, but also waiting for the final report to find out what happened to you sweet baby. Sometimes I feel like I’m sitting somewhere between Earth and Heaven because I know we’re forever tied together Eloise. You’ll always be my baby, nothing could ever change that and no one could ever replace you. I’m trying though to prepare my mind, and my body for your sibling that’s yet to come. I know one day we’ll have another baby – I feel that within my core.

Sitting in this limbo though with all these different doctors and issues that need to be addressed but not being able to do anything for a couple more weeks has me feeling more emotional given you should be here. It’s been hard now not to imagine all the things I’d be doing with you had you chosen to stay. I think I’m struggling a little more now than in the last month or so because you should be here.

I’ll work through it. It’s just a process. I need answers and I can’t get them right now. I’m spinning in circles without a lot of direction. I know what I want to do though. I am beginning to realize that no matter what happens at the end of this week, I cannot go back to Christ. I need a whole new environment in the coming pregnancy. This is the part I think I just need to give to God and trust that I will have a care team that is going to listen to me this time and allow me to advocate not only for myself but for my baby.

Talking to you like this helps Eloise…

I hope I’m doing you justice in living your life out loud. We’re really trying, daddy and me but some days I think we both just get stuck in missing you. We’re pouring all our love into Vivienne. I think some days she feels our sadness still, I hate that. It’s hard to find a balance in loving her so fiercely and not spoiling her too much. I know she knows you, I’m sure she sees you because I also know you’re always with me. I feel your presence and I couldn’t be more grateful for that.

A new song came out this week and it really was perfect timing. I’ve been listening to it thinking about you. Music has always helped me heal so I’m hoping the rest of this new Ed album is just as good as this song. until then, I’ll be dancing with my eyes closed… I love you sweet Peanut.

Oh, mommy and daddy finally gave approval for your stone this week so hopefully that is done soon and your tiny grave is finally marked. I don’t like that it has taken this long but we wanted it to be perfect, like you.

okay – mommy will talk to you soon baby. Love you forever.

Hey Eloise,

It’s dad. When I came up with this idea to write you letters after you left us, I’d hoped I’d be able to do it more often than this. I hope I get to sit down more often and write to you, update you on how mom and I are doing, how much your sister Viv is growing up and how we’re all trying to live the best we can without you here with us.

Truth is, I’m struggling. A lot. Work has eaten up so much of my time that I haven’t had a chance to sit down and write to you, or write at all (my other blog, you know, my NASCAR one, hasn’t been touched in over a year). All that time I’ve spent at work isn’t to bury myself in something to forget all the bad things I’ve endured this year. It’s just so hard to keep my head above water there and find time to come home and make sense of everything that has happened away from work too. It’s so hard to make time to spend with mom and Viv away from work, but I know I’m trying so hard to make sure I give them all the energy I have when I walk in the door.

I’m sitting in your room typing this out. It’s the one spot in the house that sometimes I don’t mind stopping in. We still have your blanket in here from the hospital. We have all the things they gave us when we left you in the room. It hurts sometimes to think about that day, but we want you to know the only thing we felt in that room was so much love. We felt love for you, for each other and despite there being an overwhelming feeling of sadness, we know that you felt that love too.

I want you to know that I carry your Mass card with me wherever I go. I have one at my desk, in my car and in my wallet. I’m constantly reminded that I’m your dad. Some days it’s harder than others for sure to get through, but most days I’m able to feel some semblance of peace. I know I haven’t been by to see you in the cemetery recently, and that’s been weighing heavily on my shoulders too recently. I don’t mind stopping by and saying hello and walking to your spot. I hope to come see you soon, because goodness knows I need to swing by and say hello.

The day you born I kept saying I felt broken. Truth is, I still feel that way sometimes. But I talked with some friends, including some who have little ones up with you, and they told me it’s totally normal to feel the way I feel. I want you to know that mom and I will be ok in time, even if we’re struggling with not being able to hold you or see you ever again. Tonight, before bed, I read Viv a book. It was called “The Invisible String.” She may not know it right now, but we’re all connected with that invisible string. Any time you want to tug on it to let us know you’re thinking about us, tug with all you have little one. I know you’re probably enjoying time with all our relatives in heaven, but don’t forget about all of us down here.

We’ll never forget about you Eloise.

Talk to you soon. I love you Golden Girl.

-Dad

So how are we doing? Well the short answer is we’re doing okay, as good as anyone could expect us to be.

Over the last month since burying Eloise we’ve been going to couples therapy with Heavens Gain Ministries. We took a trip to Las Vegas, have had a couple parents only date nights, and have gotten to spend numerous weekends with Vivienne going to the zoo, museum, play grounds and various other places. We’ve been trying to take the time to be with our little family as it is, even if it’s not how we imagined it.

We’ve planned a trip to Cancun for our 5 year anniversary in July- something we we’re not going to be able to do this summer. We also have plans for a few concerts, shows, and a weekend trip to Nashville with Vivienne.

So what can you do? This is something we’ve been asked over and over and at the time, we had no answer because there just weren’t words yet. Right now, the best thing anyone can do for us is to not treat us differently, speak Eloise’s name in conversation, and try to be comfortable talking about her. She’s still a part of our lives and our family and she always will be. The other thing you can do is keep praying that in time God and Eloise send us a little Miracle. Lastly, don’t feel like you can’t celebrate the happy things with us. Yes, we’re grieving, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t happy for anyone else with happy news.

Staying busy has helped and will probably continue to help keep us going as we keep navigating the grief and pain of Eloise not being with us, especially as we continue down the path in our war with infertility.

We do not yet have all the details as to what happened to our peanut, and we won’t for a while… we will however be taking the information we do have and further investigating with our doctors in the coming weeks. We know at this point we’re going to continue our fight and keep trying to complete our family. That being said we ask for prayers for both health and healing as time is not on our side in this journey.

All in all, we’re hanging in there and we’ll continue to do so. Thus far I think we’re doing an okay job living our lives out loud for Eloise and continuing to share our story. After all, it could become someone else’s survival guide.

Until next time 🧡

My Dearest Eloise,

A month has passed since I learned you had gone. Everyday has been a challenge in some way. I think about you every day, sometimes most of the day and wish you were still here – that I was still pregnant, awaiting your arrival in a little over 6 weeks from now. Some days it doesn’t feel real still, like maybe I’ll wake up from this nightmare and our family will be complete as we’d once planned.

Sweet baby I hope you know we could never replace you with another child. I’ve struggled with this feeling since I learned you were gone. I’ve lived in that ultrasound room so many days… woken up there so many times in the middle of the night. It’s so hard… I don’t think there’s anything I could have done to save you sweet peanut; at least that’s what the doctors have told me. I hate that my body couldn’t protect you though, that my bodies inability to function properly is the reason you’re not here. I don’t say that out of guilt, I say it because it’s a fact… A fact that I now know how to correct going forward but how I wish Eloise that I knew 7 months ago what I know now. It’s just not fair.

I’ve said it more than 100 times sweet baby but I do hope you know how loved you are and how much we wish you could have stayed. I’ve been told that it’s a child’s free will to come into this world or not but Eloise I just don’t understand why you would leave us and choose to be with all those who have gone before us. I’m sure there’s a reason… a purpose, something that maybe one day when we finally meet that I will understand – why you choose to leave us, but I know I will spend the rest of this lifetime wondering and missing you.

Your daddy and I are doing our best but some days I know it feels as though we’re drowning in grief. Please wrap us in your love sweet peanut. Help us to know you’re still here with us even though we cannot see you. I carried you every day for your whole life… and I’ll spend every day of the rest of mine loving you and missing you baby girl.

Love You Forever and Always,

Mommy

To our sweet angel baby, Mommy and Daddy know you watch over us from the sky but we dedicate this blog to you – our healing journey, and a way to carry you with us forever.

When 2023 began just a few short weeks ago, it was our resolution to start living again. After 4 years of battling infertility, we were finally going to win the war and stop living in limbo. We were finally getting excited for Eloise to arrive, planning a sprinkle, getting things ready in our new house for her to come home and complete our most perfect little family. 

Then our entire world came crashing down around us… in just one single sentence.

How does one go on? How does one keep living? Living is hard but it is times like this, one must sit down, reflect, and reevaluate life. What it is, what it means, how we’re going to do it going forward. 

Eloise was born silent into this world but her little life spoke volumes. In her short seven months with us on this Earth, she taught us so many lessons and changed life as we know it forever.

So what are some of those lessons…

Sacrifice. There are so many people who’ve sacrificed to help us in these last 9 months because being pregnant with hyperemesis is a sacrifice in and of itself. A pregnancy with hyperemesis means weightloss, dehydration, nausea beyond what any of you can probably imagine, and knowing you’re in for the fight of your life and your little babies. She sacrificed herbody so Eloise could live. Over the last 7 months Laura has lived as a human pin cushion, receiving countless sticks for treatments to keep both her and Eloise going. I sat by, helping where I could, keeping the house as in order as we can with a toddler tunning around and trying to make Laura feel as good as she could.

In all that Adam has had to watch us both go through it, knowing there was really nothing he could do to change it or make it easier to endure. Our parents spent countless hours helping us keep our household going and helping take care of our toddler, Vivienne. So much energy and time to help us sacrificed. And Why? Well that answer is simple… Love. 

We’ve said so many times over this last week… She only knew love. Eloise only knew love. It’s a lesson I’m sure our little angel has taught everyone here.

A few weeks ago I was reading Vivienne a bedtime story. Dr. Seuss’s “Horton Hears A Who” and perhaps you’re familiar with it but if you’re not the premise being “A person is a person no matter how small. 

Eloise Estelle was so so small but if love alone could have saved her, that tiny heart would have beaten forever. She touched the lives of so many, we know that not everyone she’s impacted is able to be here but whether you’re on the live stream or sitting in these church pews, love is the reason you all are here today.Love for our precious peanut, love for us, and our family.

Eloise Estelle has brought together this room full of so much love, she’s forever our little Golden Girl –daddy’s favorite TV show. She’ll be watching over all of us, helping guide us through this thing called life,with love.

There are so many more things that Eloise has taught us but we’re only going to mention just one more. Though it could be the most impactful lesson for all of us.

In this crazy chaotic world we live, it is easy to miss many moments throughout a day, week, month, and the whole year. When you sit down and reflect on and reevaluate your life, you realize how much time you’ve spent living in the present. Which is the only way you actually LIVE. 

We don’t realize how much time we spend living in the past and in the future. Either stuck on something that happened, unable to move past it. Or oppositely, constantly planning for the future – forgetting that as each day passes us by that one of those days was something we once longed for and missing the moment entirely.

In reflecting this last week on our life together, individually, and with our family we’ve come to realize that we’ve been guilty of not living in the present. 

My job is very demanding as most here know. I put in a lot of hours and sometimes at the end of the day it’s hard to be present with family because my job, and my phone doesn’t just stop. This week – it has. The week has put some things into perspective. Laura, well she says she’s guilty of constantly planning for the next thing, often forgetting that the thing that’s happening is the thing not that long ago is something she wanted too. Remembering to live in the present in this world isn’t easy, the day to day gets the best of us, no one is perfect. I’m sure everyone here can think of at least one way they’re not living in the moment, but it really struck the two of us in the time we got to spend with Eloise after her birth.

The time after Eloise’s birth is time we can NEVER get back. Precious moments we can NEVER get back. Getting to hold our tiny angel and being present with her in the short time we had are memories we will cherish until the end of time. We’re grateful for every moment we’ve gotten with her, and know she continues to be with us, even though we cannot see her. 

We chose to live this journey on a very public platform, sharing our journey and battle with infertility live online. It has not always been easy but it’s part of Eloise’s legacy. We chose to live her life out loud, speak up, have presence and hopefully an impact.LIVING is hard, going on with our lives will be hard, but in the days ahead as time dulls the pain we’re going to learn to live our lives out loud again, for Eloise – because she never got the chance.

We want to challenge everyone here, and on the live stream to live our Eloise’s legacy as well – live your life out loud. Be present in your lives and those of your family. Live with love, patience, hope and faith in what’s to come for our little Angel in heaven, Eloise Estelle. Perfection.

So until we meet again baby girl – we love you, until the end of time, we love you.