The Opposite of Funny

Today is April Fool's Day.

It's a day in America where pranks and jokes are taking place throughout the whole day. It's a day when you can't trust anyone, and any bit of news is unreliable - especially online. (You know. It's just like what Abraham Lincoln once said, "You can't trust everything you read online!"…Right??) It's a day when doubt plants itself in every moment of that specific day, not know which moment or set of information we can accept as fact.

I love jokes. I enjoy a good prank. I didn't see or hear many jokes this year, but out of the few I heard, my favorite one was created by a child in kindergarten at the school where I work.

It was lunch time and my coworker was talking to a 5-year-old boy while helping him put his straw into his milk. He told my coworker, "I had eggs for breakfast!" Replying, she told him, "good!" Then, with excitement, he said, "APRIL FOOLS!!!! I had sausage." He was so proud that my coworker believed him when he told her he ate eggs for his morning meal. He was probably even more excited that he tricked an adult.

Most of the other jokes I saw were on Facebook. A friend of mine tricked her daughter when they gave her a muffin package. Their young child was sourly disappointed when they opened the package. They were expecting a sweet and tasty muffin inside...just to find some celery. The child's reaction was hilarious and the video received nearly 50 likes on her parent's Facebook page by the end of the night.

Then, I saw a few people post something I see every year - at least 5 times. Something that they claim as "fact" for the first few hours of their original post to later claim is as a joke. Yet, it's a joke that I don't find to be funny.  I didn't like it last year…and I still don't like it this year.  (I just finally decided to voice my opinion.) But most of all?  It's a joke that I wish others wouldn't make.

What was the joke??

"I'm pregnant…again!!"

It seems simple. It seems harmless.

For many women, this "harmless" April Fool's joke is quite the opposite of being considered funny.

Sure, it can be funny to those who have children and find no struggle in getting pregnant. It's easy for this joke to be funny to those who have never cried out to God while spending hours on their numb knees, asking God to bless them with at least one child…for those who have never spent hours at the doctor's office talking about fertility, fertility treatments, and saving thousands of dollars to spend on hopes of uncertain medicine to assist in the process. The joke may cause laughter for those who have never had the heart-wrenching moment at 2:00 a.m. of an ER doctor saying, "You're in your second trimester…but I can't find the heartbeat of your daughter."

Unless you have certain life experiences, it is probably easier to have a good laugh over things that cause others tears.

There is a great amount of (often forgotten) women out in the world who have a constant struggle when it comes to the topic of children and pregnancy…Women who are mourning every day for an unfilled desire.

Jokes like this are a fresh cut on an old wound…A wound created through experiences of miscarriages, giving birth to a stillborn, child loss, infertility, and even the struggle that some experience during the process of adoption.

When women, who have no problem conceiving children, who have never experienced the unforgettable and never-ending heart ache from child loss or infertility post, "I'm pregnant…again!!" as a joke…it's not even slightly funny.

Every day many women are reminded of what they don't have or about what has been taken away from them. When women who have children and an easy ability to conceive children, and then they joke about having another child - when they aren't really pregnant - it is another reminder. They can't have children, yet their friend with a house full of children has such an easy time that they can joke about it.

The woman with a household full of children is lucky. She is blessed as she has been given such an amazingly beautiful gift from God.

The women who have struggled with child loss and infertility? They are thankful. They are thankful that their friends have their children. They are thankful that not every woman has to battle their type of harsh struggles of motherhood. Their journey is something they would never wish upon another woman.

Women who have lost a child are reminded about their loss - or desire to have children - in the daily,
small things. They're reminded in the comfort of their own homes while they surf their TV and pass the drama-filled TV series Teen Mom. They are reminded when they go to a mall and pass the baby stores or the baby isle in Target wishing they could the cute frilly pink dress for a little one. They are reminded when their friends announce real pregnancies and are invited to an endless amount of baby showers - all while craving the ability to have their own celebration for their unfulfilled desire to hold a child of their own…Not to mention when they are reminded on the date of their child's birth, the date of their death, on Mother's day, and on Christmas. They are reminded when they go to place flowers on the gravesite of one of the few things that have their child's name in writing, the headstone of the local cemetery. They're reminded of their loss and struggle by the dusty stored boxes from their time of hope and joy, before that time unexpectedly ended in an indescribably, paralyzing pain.

It's okay to make jokes and to perform pranks on April Fools. But please - keep in mind that your posts are seen by all on your friend list. What may be seen as harmless to you can hurt another in ways that you (hopefully) will never understand. Your posts are seen by mothers, fathers - but also by the childless.

I've never lost a child of my own. I've not dealt with infertility - and I pray I never will…But I know so many who have - including my sister who gave birth to first child, to her daughter, Ashley, as a stillborn (read Going Home for the story from my perspective). Knowing how much it hurts me, just as an aunt of a child who has passed on, for people to make light of pregnancies and the reminder of the pain my family has gone through throughout the last two years since her death…just to see someone be so flippant...I know I can't even imagine the pain my sister must feel - especially when people know her story and that she sees all that they post.

Sure, time has passed since the death of my niece.  July 5th will mark the 3rd year anniversary of both her birthday and the day she died...But it is still a sensitive topic for my family.  Our hearts still ache and our memories often feel as though they just took place yesterday…Memories from the few short moments when we all held her for the last time (and in my case, it was the first and last time since I was abroad during her birth).

Please…Think before you post. Your words - written or spoken - do impact others around you.

And to those of you who have lost children and/or who struggle with infertility - please know that you are remembered and loved. My prayers go out to you and your family, and I pray that your deepest heart's desires will one day be filled with a precious bundle of joy for you to share your love with…(All while helping you lose brain cells and causing you many strands of grey hair.)

The Travelin' Chick,
Crystal

Process of Healing

Today I went to a baby shower.  The baby shower was for a childhood friend and his wife.  They're having a little girl - and I am excited for their upcoming arrival.

This, however, is the first baby shower I have been to in a long time...And the first since my niece's death.

Many of you who have followed my blog consistently in the last couple of
years have probably noticed that I haven't really blogged about this topic in a while.  It has been over a year since I've brought it up.

Although I haven't written about this chapter of my life story in recent months, it is still a deeply tender area for my heart.  My heart still aches for the loss my family has experienced.  There still hasn't been a day where I haven't thought of my niece, Ashley.  In fact, it took me over a year and a half to visit her grave since the day of her burial.  Even then, I wasn't really sure if I was ready to visit...especially since my first time returning was with family at near Christmas time - and a visit to decorate her grave with jolly, colorful Christmas decorations in a place that holds one of my darkest and most painful memories.  No one wants to visit their niece at Christmas time at their grave.  Holiday decorating is suppose to take place in a warm home, scented with delicious traditions baking in an oven...not at a cold, scentless, gravesite. (And although I have been back once, I'm not sure if I can handle a second visit anytime soon.  I still struggle just by driving down a street, outside the cemetery borders, where she is buried.)

The ache isn't as fresh as it once was, as time has passed, and I have been healing.  But although I've been healing and continue to do so - I'm not sure if the ache will ever go completely away.  I guess only time will tell.

Maybe the death of my niece has slipped your mind - and that's okay.  Unless you're a close good friend of mine, or family, I don't expect you to remember every big life changing moment I have experienced.  With email, texting, Facebook, Twitter - it can be overwhelming to remember who has done what, who lives where, and who has experienced this or that.

For those of you who may be new to my blog - you can read the story of my niece's passing if you click here.    (Just as a warning: I've been told by a few people that it's best to have a tissue box nearby if you choose to click on the link.)

I wasn't really sure how I would emotionally react to attending the first baby shower since the death - especially when it's been nearly two years.

The first portion of the shower was spent with games.  I was fine with that and had a good time.  Then, the beautiful mother-to-be started to open the gifts that would bless her and her upcoming family of three...And that's when it happened.

My mind went to my sister and to Ashley.  My mind went to the pain of, "We never got to experience the joy of throwing them a baby shower."

Then, I remembered the gifts that I bought for Ashley.  Once we found out she was a girl, I started to slowly buy things in excitement of my niece's arrival.  I bought a couple of outfits, a child's Jamba Juice cup, a soft rattle, a rubber ducky, and other items a child could enjoy - or look adorable wearing.

Those items now sit in my hope chest in our guest/craft room...Locked away in a small space, still in the logo-marked bags from the stores they came from, as the receipt's ink fading away as time moves forward.

There are only two items that I no longer have - the rattle and a bib that said, "My heart belongs to my aunt."  My sister and brother-in-law asked me to add the rattle to the casket, and I was honored that they asked.  The bib?  That was my choice of item to leave with her.

Like I mentioned, I still have the receipts for the items I bought.  Although there was no longer a need for the items after her premature passing, I never could return the items.  Two years later - I still don't think I'd be able to make the returns.

My mom and I didn't stay long once the gifts were being opened.  Noticing a look in my mom's eyes and my urge to leave, I knew it was time to silently signal my mom, asking if she was ready to leave...Even though I knew I didn't need to ask.

Again, we're happy that the young couple will soon be having special memories of their own with their baby girl.  Naturally, it's an exciting time for their life!!...And it should be!  I'm glad that we were able to join the shower, even if we had to cut our time there short.  However, the death of my niece, my mom's first grandchild, is still hard for us in certain situations.  We want to celebrate with our and with others when a baby enters our world - but with moderations that our hearts can handle.  (Overtime I am sure we'll be able to handle things better and with more ease...One day at a time, one baby shower at a time.)

For each family member, I know that different things will trigger our emotions differently and at different times.  There will be many times when we'll think, "We never got to..." Or moments of thinking, "Ashley would have been ______ by now."

My mom's moments (as Ashley's grandma) will be different than my moments (as an aunt), and as Ashley's mom, my sister's moments will definitely be different, more intense, and more frequent.  Certain things will trigger emotions in all of us, and our emotions will vary in type and level, as will our trains of thought.  Some events will bring up the ache, while others go unfazed.  For example, sometimes people slip up and call my little cousin, Rayna, my niece.  Or they'll call me her aunt.  As many times as this has happened, I still can't figure out a way to avoid the heart-breaking pain that comes with innocent mistake.  While I am more like an aunt figure to the sweet 2-year-old little girl than a cousin figure, I have a hard time hearing people call me by this title or her under the title as my niece.  For my sister?  I think she likes it when she's called "Aunt Amanda" and doesn't mind if people mix Rayna up as her niece - and that's okay if she does.

Two years later, and I am still amazed to learn that mourning and healing is an ongoing process.

For those of you with grandchildren, nieces, nephews, or children - hug them tight and cherish every moment and memory.  You are blessed to have them in your life as you watch them learn and grow.

The Travelin' Chick,
Crystal

Going Home

*This is a lengthy and slightly scattered entry...While it's long in words, it only briefly covers my thoughts, emotions, and only a fraction of the story.*

"You need to come home."

It's a phrase I remember all too well. I was in Japan a few weeks ago (helping with disaster relief work) when this was said to me. It was a phrase so unexpected - just as unexpected as the situation taking place at home.

Within 24 hours of landing in Japan I received a text from my mom telling me to call her as soon as possible. Knowing that phone calls and texts to and from Japan aren't the cheapest from the USA (even with a special plan), I knew something was wrong. Honestly, considering my dad's health this year, I figured it had to do with him. I assumed he was back in the hospital for a third time.

Once I got a hold of my mom back home in California I found out my theory was all wrong. Dad was okay. She was okay. This time around my sister and my niece were the ones who were in the hospital.

At this point my sister, Amanda, was about 22 weeks pregnant with my niece. Just a couple of weeks earlier we found out who my niece was. She was Ashley Elizabeth. Ashley would be my sister and brother-in-law's first daughter. Their first child. She would be my first niece, my parent’s first grandchild, and my grandparent’s first great-grandchild.

Now at 22 weeks within the womb, my sister found them sitting in the hospital being told the odds weren't good. The amniotic fluid was leaking. One more week is all they needed to increase the odds to better ones. Bed rest was a necessity and we would all know more in a few days.

In my mind I honestly thought, "Everything is going to be okay. God is in control. He'll take care of them. I'll make it home in about a week. Things will be okay and if she has to come early - I'll be home for Ashley's grand entrance into the world."

Stories and stories of God's care and miracles kept coming to my mind, encouraging me. I was worried, but praying about it I put it all in God's hands. Being in Japan I couldn't do anything about the situation other then pray and have my team members pray. Even if I had been home I still couldn't really of done anything more then what I was already doing.

A few days went by. During those few days a lot was accomplished. The team I was on in Japan took a night ferry from one island to another to get to the disaster-affected area. We got to where we were staying during our time volunteering. We met new friends with shovels in hand. We worked and we sweat. We laughed at silly moments (probably increased by jet lag). We cried for the Japanese and the destruction, horror, lose, and pain they have had to face in their lives and for the stories and memories they have to bear. (And again, there will be blogs about the whole trip and with the stories of the Japanese survivors.)

One day after several hours of bagging up rubble from where a house once stood we got back to the gym that was our temporary home. I hadn't looked at my phone all day. When I did I saw a missed call from my aunt and text messages saying to call her "ASAP". This is when I knew there must have been a drastic turn in events back home.

Calling her back she informed me that my sister had suddenly gotten an infection. An infection that sent her fever well above 100 degrees. The doctors made the call to induce labor. My niece’s arrival would more then likely occur within the next 24 hours. The odds weren't good at all. She had less then 1% chance to live. They still had her heart beat, but we wouldn't know anything until she was born.

In that moment as I sat in the gym on my sleeping mat, phone pressed against my ear, tears started to roll down my cheek. Other then the basics of the situation, all I remember my aunt heart-brokenly saying, "I am so sorry Crystal...I am so sorry." All I could really ask in reply was, "When will they know if she’ll make it? When will they know?" More then likely, we wouldn’t know for a few hours or until she was even born.

A few hours later the team was headed to the onsen on the bus, I got the call. My sister was still in labor but Ashley didn't make it. My sister would be giving birth to her beautiful daughter as a stillborn.

This was all so unexpected. The pain of losing my niece has caught me off guard. I had no idea it could hurt so much to lose a child that I never got to know. My heart was breaking, knowing I would never even get to hold her. Everything that could happen seemed to be happening to our family in the recent months. I was thousands of miles away as my family was being hit by one of the strongest storms we've had to go through together. Confusion hit me as I thought, "I thought God wanted me to come to Japan, but why would he want me here when my family needs me there? Why is all this happening - especially now?"

During the days in Japan I truly felt mostly okay. The work kept us busy. The laughter and silly moments kept me laughing. Our team kept me encouraged and prayed for my family often.

Nights were the worst for me. That’s when life slowed down. It’s when I was alone in my own little world and thought process. It’s when there was silence…Silence where my mind could wander back home, back to where I knew the pain and shock of the situation was devastating my family.

After working in Japan I ended up going home about two days early. I was leaving on a Monday and the visitation for Ashley was Tuesday. The service would be Wednesday.

Those few days were a blur. Leaving Japan I felt heartbroken. Every time I leave the wonderful country of Japan I feel as though I leave a little bit of my heart behind. Once on my plane I spent over 24 hours flying, arriving home in California before I ever left the country of Japan. (Yay for time differences!)

Tuesday came as my sister knocking on my door awaked me. Together we talked and we cried. She told me that I would, after all, still have a chance to hold Ashley if I wanted the chance. My sister and brother-in-law also asked me if I was willing to put a soft stuffed animal rattle I had bought Ashley in the coffin with her. “We would be honored if you chose to put it in with her, but we understand if you don’t.”

I knew I had to give her the toy and I was honored that they asked. When pulling down the bag of baby stuff mom and I had been collecting, to retrieve the item, I thought to myself, “This isn’t right. This isn’t supposed to be pulled down until her baby shower. This is suppose to be used in a time of celebration.”

Walking into the visitation room tears instantly trickled down all of our cheeks as the little pink coffin came into our vision. Instantly I couldn’t help but think, “No coffin should ever be that small.”

During the first 30 minutes or so of being in the room I couldn’t get myself to go past the back row of the chapel. As my family walked to the front crying and hugging one another, I sat in the first chair I saw - frozen. As a couple of family members tried to get me to go closer, I couldn’t move. I had no words to say. Eventually even my tears froze as I sat there taking it all in, not knowing what to think, do, say, or how to react.

There were many thoughts going through my mind that day. Reality was finally really hitting. Being in Japan and hearing what was happening, it hurt and I felt broken. But being home…Seeing the pain…Seeing the coffin…It really made it sink in as real even more then just hearing what was occurring. What I knew as broken before felt more like little cracks in comparison to what I was now feeling. (Kind of like Japan. It’s one thing to hear about the disaster and work that needs to be done. Pictures help to understand, videos really helped, but being there in person…hearing the stories…seeing their pain in their eyes…seeing the destruction and rubble…it’s a whole different ball park in comparison to just reading the papers and online news.)

As I watched my family from afar it felt unreal as a loving father took his precious 14-ounce daughter wrapped in pink out of the coffin they were to bury her in the next day. It felt unreal as her mother, my sister, gave her one last kiss on her little forehead and as great-grandparents held her for the first and last time (as they, like me, were out of town when all this took place).

Up until this point I didn’t know if I would hold her or not. In fact, I still hadn’t even gone up to look at her yet. This wasn’t due to a lack of desire – believe me. The desire was all there. The strength is what I feared I lacked.

When I realized it they were getting ready to put her back into the coffin for the last time, I jumped up realizing this was my last chance. This was my last chance to see her…to hold her…This was my last chance to create my first and last memory with her as she was out of the womb.

As they handed her to me she felt so light. Tears started to pour out of my eyes and down my face. I remember family surrounding us. I remember my mom saying, “Look at her little hand…” as she uncovered it from the blanket she was wrapped in so snuggly. She had five little fingers and a cute little nose. She was beautiful.

When putting her into the coffin for the last time she was given a little tiny Bible by her little hands. We also placed in a stuffed animal rattle that I had purchased in excitement for a future baby shower. Also with her I put in a little bib I had just purchased a couple of weeks before that said, “My heart belongs to my aunt.”

The next day we drove to the cemetery. As we got out of are cars, we saw other family members and friends standing under a tarp all dressed in black. We were guided to our seats where the service would take place. We heard a preacher speak and two beautiful songs, including, “Jesus Loves Me”. Before I knew it the service was over and it was time to lower Ashley into the ground. As my tears once more flowed down my cheek, my cousin Brett held me while shedding his own tears.

The last month has been an emotional roller coaster for all of us. We’ve all experienced some kind of anger, happiness, bitterness, sadness, and times of laughter. Many thoughts have run through all of our heads about all the situations surrounding our family. A month after all this has occurred I still feel the urge to run to Babies ‘R Us or Carter’s to buy a cute little pink frilly baby dress for my niece. Instead, I remember we all had to purchase black funeral ones for ourselves in mourning and sadness.

Everyday is different in our house. Some days are easier, some are harder. We all always think about Ashley. There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t think about her. I think about the memories that should have been made. I think about the ones that one-day will be made when we meet face to face and can hold a conversation. I think of her in her new body soaring on the wings of angels and being held by our Heavenly Father.

I’ve been battling the question, “Am I still considered an aunt??” It’s taken a while for me to figure out if I still am considered one until recently. When people ask me if I am an aunt, or if I have any nieces or nephews, my answer will always be “Yes!” without question. Ashley is as much part of our family and lives as anyone else with our shared DNA. My love for her started from the moment we knew she was in existence – before we ever even knew she was an “Ashley”. While she may not be with us physically anymore, she is always in our thoughts and hearts as our love for her always lives inside us.

Hey Ashley - I love you. And I am NOT afraid to say it!

The Travelin' Chick,

Crystal