And Then There Were Three

My arms are empty without you!  My heart cries out, lonely in the darkness, but you are not here. No tears shall bring you back into my arms again. My mothers love was not strong enough to keep you, but it is strong enough to follow and find you,
though all the mists of Eternity should try to come between! ― Joan Walsh Anglund

She came into this world on October 14th, 2011 weighing in at 1 pound and a few ounces.  It was an emergency c-section.  She was blue and non-responsive.  After spending lots of time in the hospital her biological family’s rights were terminated.  A new family was chosen.  Ours.

She was kind of shrimpy.  The doctors told me she wouldn’t make it past two.  But she did.  When they said no, she said, “Hold my milk.”

This kid had tude and moxie.  She never stopped.  So we never did either.  Even when things were hard she always pulled out a Hail Mary at the last minute.

But in December something shifted in her body.  She was getting sick again.  We knew but we sort of hoped that we could pull another rabbit out of our hat.  But this time, death would not be cheated.

In the dark before dawn Cary Lynn took her last breath in our arms.  The machines that had helped her breathe went still.  The silence was deafening.

Hospice was here along with an amazing night nurse who helped us prepare her little body for her final journey.  Our hearts shattered.  She was so brave and so strong.  Of all the hard things I have ever done, watching my child being carried out on a stretcher with a sheet draped over her was the hardest thing I have ever done.

The second was trying to pick up the pieces and try to make sense of our new life.  To comfort a son who doesn’t understand why God took away his sister.  To watch my husband grieve.  To know that it will be a very long time before we are reunited again.

The third thing was putting aside my own feelings and reaching out through our social worker to Cary Lynn’s biological mother.  Carefully placing some of her ashes in a little pink urn and sending them to a woman in Virginia.  A woman who walked out of her life, but gave her that life nonetheless.  A woman who is also in mourning for mistakes made and time lost.

But even during the darkness there was so much support and love.  Our little girl made a big difference in the lives she was part of.  She changed people.

Cary Lynn lives on.  She lives on in the organ donations we made, her brother and daddy, the people she touched, and me.  She lives in my heart and will always be some of the best parts of my life.  I am proud to be her mama.



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