Monday, September 13, 2010

Four Months: Remembering

Four months. One third of a year. Almost one quarter of the time Hudson was alive. How is this possible? The youngest of Hudson’s little friends are soon to be older than she was when she died. Really, how did this happen?  These fall days are proving even harder than I expected-- the slight chill on the breeze just fills me with longing for my little girl. 

I wasn’t sure what memory I would write about this month until we were at the beach this weekend. Even when it finally became clear what I should write about, I’ve been dreading writing it. I’m not sure why. Maybe because I can both see and feel the shift that the grief has made since August 13, and it makes me indescribably sad.

We spent the first week of September last year with Jess and her family at Topsail Island. Ed, my dad, my brother and I rented a house two doors down from the one that has been in Jess’s family for many years. Ed’s dad and Deniese also spent a few nights with us down there. It was Hudson’s first trip to the beach. Little did I know it would be her only chance to swim in the ocean. Little did I know that her life was already halfway over.  How is that possible?

When we arrived on Topsail in the late afternoon, I couldn’t wait to get her out to the ocean to see what she’d do. She’d proven herself not to be afraid of water, having been swimming a few times in a couple of different pools, but I still wasn’t sure how she’d react to the ocean. And wouldn’t you know it? Our little monkey was game for anything, and the ocean was no different. She loved it. But she couldn’t walk yet, so the best we could do was hold her hands while she waded or sit her in our laps and let the waves wash around her.









The weather was only so-so that week, so we only spent a few days actually out on the beach. But she made the best of them. She was fascinated with sand (as I’m sure most babies are) and could not stop putting it in her mouth (as I’m sure most babies do). Already in love with birds, she could not get enough of all the ones she saw on the beach, and she’d say “Ooooh! Ooooh! Ooooh!” every time she saw one flying in the sky or skittering across the beach.







On one particularly cloudy day, we took a trip to the Topsail Turtle Project, where they rescue and rehabilitate sea turtles. There, she got to meet her spirit animal up close for the first time. She got a t-shirt to remember it by.



Of course, we had to take the obligatory “beautiful baby in the dunes” picture. She obliged without complaint, as you can see. 





And I don’t know if it was because we were with her all day every day for the whole week or because she was getting so much stimulation from so many different people, but she learned a whole bunch of new tricks that week. She said her first word, “Uh oh!” and used it appropriately when I dropped something. She started playing pattycake back with us for the first time, clapping her hands when we said, “Pattycake!” and saying, “puh-puh-puh.” She started giving five and waving and saying “Bye bye!” It was a pretty big week.

This past weekend at the beach, it was a lot more crowded than we’d anticipated for the weekend after Labor Day. It was impossible to find a spot where we weren’t surrounded by several different families with young children. I had brought a book to read and tried to stay focused on it, but my eyes kept being drawn to one little girl in particular. She was just the right size, with just the right amount of hair so that from the back, I could almost imagine that she was Hudson. And this is what I imagined:

Hudson runs down to the water, chasing the waves out and then runs back towards us, shrieking in delight as the tide chases her. She plops down and lets the water run over her ever-more-muscular legs, squishing her fingers in the sand. She gets back up and wanders back towards us, stopping every once in a while to squat low and peer at shells in the sand, occasionally picking one up and holding it out to us to see, saying, “Shell!” We nod and say, “That’s right, sweetie! A shell!” A seagull flies right over her and she looks up and shouts, “Bird!” She picks up the shovel and bucket we’ve brought with us and starts trying to dig a hole, working hard to keep the sand in the shovel long enough so at least some of it falls in the bucket. She dumps the sand out of the bucket and onto a small pile she’s making. She grabs the bucket and runs to the water, fills it and comes back to her work site, then pours the water in the hole she just dug, fascinated as it sinks into the hole and disappears. She then grabs the sand off the pile she was making and puts it back into the hole and packs it down. Then she starts all over again. Her daddy gets up and runs towards her saying, “I’m gonna get you!” and she throws the shovel and bucket down and starts to run in the other direction, gleefully laughing as she goes. Her daddy gains on her quickly and scoops her into his arms, swinging her high into the air. He walks her down to the water and puts her back down, then grabs both her arms and starts to swing her around, every once in a while swinging her low enough that her feet skim the top of the water and she laughs. Her hair glints in the sunlight, hints of blonde and red in the mess of brown. Her daddy puts her down and she runs to me, arms out, and I fold her into a hug and say, “Give mommy a snuzzle!” And she patiently holds her head still, looking at me out of the corner of her eye, while I rub her nose with mine. And then she squirms back out of my arms and runs away, ready to play some more.

How vivid they are, these images that will never be. I am so very, very sad for her that she is missing out on so much.

We miss you, my sweet girl. We all miss you so very much.


With Uncle Jason

With Poppy

With Aunt Jess

With Grandpa

And Grandpa again





28 comments:

  1. This comment has been removed by the author.

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  2. Dear Mandy, the pictures you've posted today are so beautiful (some of which I don't think I've seen before on FB). I am shaking my head with you, asking the unanswerable question of why Hudson wasn't at the beach with you this weekend and why that beautiful, vivid vignette you wrote above is not an actual memory from the past weekend. Thinking of you today, as always

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  3. Mandy, I just read this post and it has moved me to tears. I wish so much that you were blogging about life with your little girl, making new memories at the beach. It is so obvious what a loved little girl Hudson is, and I'm so sorry that she is not with you now. ~Amanda

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  4. Love to you, Ed, and your precious turtle. - Sara

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  5. Beautiful photos... she was a gorgeous child and looks so full of life in these photos. Keep remembering. It's good for the heart and soul. Still think of you many times every day, Mandy. It kills me inside to know that another mommy is having to experience a loss so similar to ours because I know that pain and grief all too well. I hope you can feel my thoughts and virtual hugs from across the miles. It's as if our lives have been touched by THE most precious of angels. We just didn't know it at the time. Love ya. Big hugs. Always.

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  6. Mandy,
    You cotinue to amaze me with your grace, your perseverence, and you willingness to open up to the unfathomable and the inescapable. Like you, I often think about what Hudson would be doing, mostly because K and I want Peanut to be as fearless as your Turtle was. We want her to be as joyful, and we want to share her life with as many people as you shared Hudson's. I can't thank you enough for doing this.

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  7. Sorely missed indeed by so many people. The joy on your faces in these pictures is beautiful, as is Hudson.

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  8. Mandy,
    There are a million things that make me think up Hudson - the 13th will forever be one of those. When you talk about other children aging, I had the realization on Saturday that it was the day Emma turned 15 months old and I immediately followed that up with the memory of meeting Hudson on the day she turned 15 months. The memory is forever seared in my mind of our first day at St. Ann's and asking Ms. Lili how old Hudson was. She responded with 14 months and then quickly corrected herself and declared that Hudson was 15 months old that day! She clapped and gave Hudson a big hug... your girl smiled and clapped and then ran away to play :) Hudson was such an absolute joy - we were so, so lucky to know her and continue to carry her with us.

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  9. There is something about longing for someone that penetrates every cell of our being; so much so, the ache of gone feels so unreal. It's true, we all miss you so terribly Hudson aka Turtle. Renee

    ((((((HUGS A MILLION )))))) Mandy and Ed

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  10. What joy and what sorrow. The math just doesn't add up right because Hudson was your life even though she was only here for 17 months. I wrote on my son's 2nd birthday that it seemed like his time here was a blink and an eternity at the same time. A blink because somehow 2 years have passed and he isn't a baby anymore when it feels like just a few days ago I found out I was pregnant, he was born, he first sat up, took his first steps. But it also feels like an eternity because he is my life and so much of my energy and emotions are tied up in and revolve around him that picturing a life without him is an impossibility. That's how time plays tricks on you. Someday Hudson will have been gone longer than she was here, but her impact on your life (and many others) is lasting and will forever be greater than the mere number of her days on earth. There is nothing else to say except that I'm sorry the sorrow is part of your journey with Hudson when it should be all joy.

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  11. A memory that should have been, but isn't. Gorgeous.

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  12. Mandy, your photographs are so lovely and so heartbreaking. I wish so much for you that things were different. Sending HUGE hugs.
    Claire

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  13. I've been thinking about you all weekend since we finally met. Thank you for sharing these beautiful pictures and letting us all marvel at her. Hudson is so truly lucky to have had you as her mom. Erin H

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  14. I'm sad for her, too. And for you, Ed, and everyone who loved her. Thinking of you. -Kate

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  15. Beautiful girl, beautiful family, beautiful photos. I can't believe it has been four months. Wishing with you that she could have run and played in the sand again this week. Thinking of you guys, always.

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  16. Mandy, what a beautiful post. I could see every second of your words. You have been given a wonderful gift in your writing. When your heart is ready, I hope you will write a book.
    I cannot imagine how hard this weekend was for you, but you have my most sincere admiration for going on with life, however hard it is.
    Know we keep you and Ed in our prayers daily.

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  17. The photographs are so beautiful. A little girl with a big, big personality.
    How I wish that the second part of this post had not been imaginary.

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  18. No one could be remembered and cherished more lovingly or more beautifully.

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  19. I hope that by imagining Hudson as she would have been today that you will, in a way, be able to follow her growth, remain connected to her as time passes. It is no less terrible today than it was four months ago that she is gone, and I imagine that your wonderings about her bring more pain than anything else-- but it is a way to stay connected to her spirit, the part of her that is not gone from the world, even though her sweet little body is. I'm so, so sorry, for the millionth time.

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  20. We think of you, Hudson and Ed so often. Thank you for continuing to share these precious memories of your girl with all of us. -Kymber

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  21. Mandy, your post is so very honest and beautiful. C.S. Lewis wrote that the depth of our grief is the same as the depth of our love. We are not wired to outlive our babies. You have been in my thoughts and prayers today and my hope for you is peaceful sleep. Your strength and grace will see you through to days where pain does not have center stage. We would have had them, if only for one day...their deaths will never make any sense. Love, Helen

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  22. So sad for you, Mandy. It is evident from the photos how thoroughly you and Ed were enjoying parenting Hudson. I think of her and you all often. Olivia

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  23. It is unbelievably sad that your beautiful family was torn apart like this. I love your imagined time with Hudson at the beach. I wish it could happen just like that for you.

    I'm thinking of you all the time.

    p

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  24. Such a lovely little girl. What a blessing she was. Praying for you and your Ed every day - every night - all the time. Praying that your grief will ease little by little until you have room again for joy - and I know for certain that you will. Blessings and peace be upon you.

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  25. What a beautiful post Mandy. The pictures from the beach speak a thousand words. Hudson looks like she's having the best time ever. And so do you and Ed. We all pray that you and Ed will feel that joy in your hearts one day again. I can't believe it's been 4 months...

    Love you.

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  26. Every picture of Hudson is a beautiful baby picture. The light and energy she exudes leaps at me. And what a smile. Mandy, I love your imagining of Hudson with you at the beach this year. It made me cry because I know how palpable and real it was for those brief moment when you "saw" Hudson picking up a shell to show to you. She will always be your little girl. You will always be her mother. That is one good thing.

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  27. Mandy, that was beautiful. While difficult, I think its very wise and admirable for you to continue creating new memories with Hudson.

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