I know this is the first blog in a long time, but my life has been turned upside-down in recent months. I have been avoiding blogging lately, afraid of what might come to light when I did finally decide to pour my heart out on this page.

I suppose I'll start at the beginning and we'll see where this all ends up:

My last blog was July 22nd, right after we found out we were expecting a baby. Since then we have celebrated many pregnancy milestones - the heartbeat, the first ultrasound, picking names, finding out gender, and feeling kicks. All of these moments live so vividly in my mind, sometimes I almost forget what has transpired since then. But before I get into that, I'm feeling more like remembering all the good first.

The first heartbeat; that was a crazy day. The nurse couldn't find it, and neither could the doctor. So our first heartbeat day also was our first ultrasound day. Seeing that little baby rolling and waving and wiggling about was incredible. To think that God had chosen me to carry that child into existence was amazing to me - and I thank Him still every day for that opportunity.

Names... oh, boy. That was an ongoing process even before we became pregnant! It was always "How about this one?" and then "Nope, that one's no good". It took much persuasion on both sides to finally come to an agreement, but once we did, it was just perfect.

"It's a girl!" That is one of the coolest things to hear (especially when you thought it was a boy the whole time but was secretly hoping for a little girl). Look out pinkness and flowerdom, here we come-a-shopping! It was so fun looking for crib sets too, trying to find the perfect theme for my little "Monkey".

Oh, and that night Kyle first got to feel her move. I am so very, very thankful for that night! She would always be wiggling around, and I'd have my hand there and she'd kick me or punch my palm. But as soon as Daddy's hand was there - oh, no! There was no showing off for her father! But she did eventually give in to my begging and gave her Daddy a teeny tiny beating.

Those memories just flood my mind as I write all this out. Such joy we had; such incredible happiness the good Lord bestowed upon us. But in an instant, everything changed.

Things just weren't feeling right on a Tuesday at work. I called a couple nurses who assured me all was well and to basically deal with it. But call it mother's intuition - I knew something wasn't right. So I called my doctors nurse Wednesday morning and set up an appointment for that afternoon. Now, to spare you all the icky details, I'll skip ahead to the diagnosis: I was 22 weeks along and my water broke. Any of you out there that's ever had a child or knows someone who has, knows that water breaking that early is NOT a good sign. Ever.

So I was admitted to the hospital, told everything was going downhill, and basically left to see when my body would attempt to deliver a baby too small to survive. We managed through an awful night, but with so much support around us, we made it through - with the baby still inside. We were moved to another area to wait it out - and miraculously, things seemed to be improving. My parents had made it to Missouri to be with us, and they never left my side.

In five short days, my hopes had been dashed to the ground that first night, only to be gingerly picked up again and dusted off. And in that five short days, someone decided to take my hopes that had been set so neatly on a shelf and throw a baseball into them and break them into a million and a half tiny bits.

I lost my daughter the evening of November 15th, 2010. Her heartbeat had stopped, and I could feel the emptiness creeping into my own heart for her. I screamed and screamed and cried and cried, and then I did it all over again. I couldn't believe what was happening. Everything was looking so good! She was healthy and strong and my symptoms were dissapating - but then in a single, awful, heart-breaking moment, she was just gone.

I will never in this carnal life understand why she was taken from us. I will never be able to completely come to terms with her loss. I will always hold her memory close, as I push the doubt and the blame and the terrifying feeling of an empty heart to the back. But we know that God gave us those weeks with her for a reason that we can't comprehend right now. I had said to our pastor at one point, "Why would He wait five days to take her? Why didn't He just do it and get it over with?" I could sit here all day and conjure up a multitude of ways in which God could've handled things differently - as if I am in any position to tell Him what to do. But the conclusion that we have settled upon, was that He not only gave us all a new appreciation for life, no matter how small and short it may be, but also so she could meet her grandparents. My mom and dad both got to feel her move AND hear her hearbeat before she left this earth. And trust me - that is a big deal.

Now that the ashes of this great atomic bomb in the middle of my existence has begun to settle, I ask myself this question: What was God trying to tell me? What point was He trying to get across - and what do I do about it now?

"You are not in control - of anything." Anyone who knows me knows that control issues have always plagued me. I must be the master of my own domain. But maybe He is using this heartbreak as a tool to kick me off my high horse and bring me back to earth.

"Life is a gift and you should treasure it always." I don't think for a second that I cherished my daughter's life less than I should have. But I know that now, even more than before, I hold extremely strong feelings about abortion and the general lack of respect for the human life. As Dr. Suess put it, "A person's a person, no matter how small."

I also think that God has given me a gift in all this mess - a gift to give back to others in a multitude of ways. I can be an understanding ear for those who've experienced the same. I can make blankets for the hospital like the one that was given to me and my little girl. I can be a light of strength and faith to those who have none... I can point the way to a much greater life than the one here on earth.

I will have days like today, that all I can think about is her tiny little feet kicking me in her tiny little ninja way. How she had not only my big nose, but my funny looking feet. How she had her Daddy's cute little ears and how her hands were so perfect. How her name just fit her like it was decided on well before we found it.

I have days that all I want to do is curl up in bed with her blanket and her tiny urn and cry myself into oblivion. I have days that I don't go into her room with the crib and the carseat and the closet full of pinkness and flowerdom. I want to have another baby, but I don't want to feel like I'm replacing her in any way. I have days that the flashbacks of that night we lost her haunt me like nightmares and send me into a stupor of sadness.

But I also have days that I sit for hours crocheting baby blankets to take to the hospital and bless other moms. I have days that I go into her room and daydream about the day that we'll fill it up with toys for her little brother or sister. I kiss my husband and fantasize about watching him play with our children and teaching them little things everyday. I know I will have the chance again to attack pinkness and flowerdom again (or possible bluedom and dinosaurness?). And I have days that I just sit and think about all the wonderful experiences that Kyle and I went through - together.

The good days now outweigh the bad. The positive memories overshadow the negative ones. I have since swept up the shards of my badly broken hope and placed them in a box to keep them together so I may one day put them back together again.

So today I say - let's break out the superglue! In memory of my daughter

Auralia Noel Mansfield

November 16th, 2010 7:43am

13 ounces, 11.25 inches long