"There is no footprint too small that it cannot leave an imprint on this world."
Dear Friends and Family,
I started this blog awhile back as just an outlet. An outlet to talk about whatever random thoughts were on my mind. Since everything has happened I've decided to use it for a different reason. I've deleted some of the old posts (mainly because they were ridiculous). I kept a previous one, because I think it's important. It is 50 rules for dad's with daughters. 50 things I had planned on implementing into me & Elliston's relationship. My hope for this blog now is that one day, a father out there somewhere, will run across it and it will either challenge him to love his kids to the edge of his being or it will comfort a dad, who like me, has suffered a horrible loss.
Monday, November 26, 2012, Elliston would be one month old. I still don't fully grasp that she'll never run or play here on this earth. I find myself still wanting to buy her toys or thinking of a place I want to take her. I'm also surprised by the emotions that are still coming so heavily. The anger at boredom. We shouldn't be bored, we should be exhausted and sleep deprived from late night feedings and diaper changes. Feeling like I let my family down. It's a father’s duty to protect his daughter and I couldn't. Fear. Fear of trying to have another baby. Fear of holding our next child to an impossible comparison. Guilt. Feeling guilt that I'm not honoring Elliston enough. That having another child is like a slap in the face to her memory. That I'm not living my life to a standard that represents a perfect baby girl. Sadness. I never imagined how much of a hole her loss would leave in my heart. I miss her so much. You can feel her absence in our house. A crib she'll never sleep in, toys she'll never play with, clothes she'll never wear. I don’t understand and it’s hard to except that I probably never will.
The support from so many people has been incredible. I don’t think people realize how much the posts, photos, comments, texts, cards, & phone calls mean to us. I look at the #ForElliston hashtag several times a week. Knowing that she isn’t forgotten brings me hope. I hope that her name and memory will drive people to Love. To love on their kids a little more. Give them that extra hug before bedtime. Say yes to that extra scoop of ice cream sometimes. That it will give Tiffany & me strength to live our lives in a way that, as she looks down on us from heaven, she can be proud to call us Mommy & Daddy. Heaven seems more real to me now. It's not a place where, 'if I act right and say my prayers', I'll get to go one day. It's where my daughter is. I know she's there, playing with her brother/sister we lost in a miscarriage last November. I hope my Grandpa Pitts is teaching her to fish. That my Grandma Hargis is telling her stories before she goes to sleep. I try to find optimism in these dark times. Sometimes it’s doable, sometimes it seems impossible. We just take things as they come. A day at a time & sometimes, an hour at a time. I know that in time we will find balance in these thoughts and emotions.
I started this blog awhile back as just an outlet. An outlet to talk about whatever random thoughts were on my mind. Since everything has happened I've decided to use it for a different reason. I've deleted some of the old posts (mainly because they were ridiculous). I kept a previous one, because I think it's important. It is 50 rules for dad's with daughters. 50 things I had planned on implementing into me & Elliston's relationship. My hope for this blog now is that one day, a father out there somewhere, will run across it and it will either challenge him to love his kids to the edge of his being or it will comfort a dad, who like me, has suffered a horrible loss.
Monday, November 26, 2012, Elliston would be one month old. I still don't fully grasp that she'll never run or play here on this earth. I find myself still wanting to buy her toys or thinking of a place I want to take her. I'm also surprised by the emotions that are still coming so heavily. The anger at boredom. We shouldn't be bored, we should be exhausted and sleep deprived from late night feedings and diaper changes. Feeling like I let my family down. It's a father’s duty to protect his daughter and I couldn't. Fear. Fear of trying to have another baby. Fear of holding our next child to an impossible comparison. Guilt. Feeling guilt that I'm not honoring Elliston enough. That having another child is like a slap in the face to her memory. That I'm not living my life to a standard that represents a perfect baby girl. Sadness. I never imagined how much of a hole her loss would leave in my heart. I miss her so much. You can feel her absence in our house. A crib she'll never sleep in, toys she'll never play with, clothes she'll never wear. I don’t understand and it’s hard to except that I probably never will.
The support from so many people has been incredible. I don’t think people realize how much the posts, photos, comments, texts, cards, & phone calls mean to us. I look at the #ForElliston hashtag several times a week. Knowing that she isn’t forgotten brings me hope. I hope that her name and memory will drive people to Love. To love on their kids a little more. Give them that extra hug before bedtime. Say yes to that extra scoop of ice cream sometimes. That it will give Tiffany & me strength to live our lives in a way that, as she looks down on us from heaven, she can be proud to call us Mommy & Daddy. Heaven seems more real to me now. It's not a place where, 'if I act right and say my prayers', I'll get to go one day. It's where my daughter is. I know she's there, playing with her brother/sister we lost in a miscarriage last November. I hope my Grandpa Pitts is teaching her to fish. That my Grandma Hargis is telling her stories before she goes to sleep. I try to find optimism in these dark times. Sometimes it’s doable, sometimes it seems impossible. We just take things as they come. A day at a time & sometimes, an hour at a time. I know that in time we will find balance in these thoughts and emotions.
I'll end this
post with these words. Not mine. Not even a friend's. They're the words of
a friend of a friend, to us, from a vision the Lord gave her. Sarah
Bridge, if you ever see this, I hope you know how much these words impacted
Tiffany & I and gave us such comfort and hope. Thank You!
"I had two
miscarriages before my daughter, Ruby was born. Recently, I took
the ultrasound pictures out and looked at the due dates and realized
that those babies would be 5 and 4 now. Crazy.
A couple of Sundays
ago at church, the worship leader asked everyone to speak
out our thanks to God. I was praying and felt led to thank God for those
two babies, who made a huge impact on my husband and I even though
we lost them so early. Then the Lord gave me a vision of a group
of children in a field. Tons and tons of kids standing around
waiting for someone. And they were all so excited! At the front of the
group were a little girl and a little boy who looked to be approximately
4 or 5 years old. All of a sudden, the little girl ran out from the
group to meet another little girl. It was Elliston. She hugged her and
they walked hand in hand back to the other children. Those
kids had been waiting to welcome her into the Presence of God. I find it
such a beautiful thought that my babies are not only in the presence of
God, but that they are also with other children who love each other and
welcome each other with such joy."
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