Forever changed

I’ve always loved October.

It has nothing to do with Pumpkin Spice Lattes (ew.), but it’s my favorite month of the year. I love football games, not wearing shorts anymore (thank God), breathing the crisp morning air and the start of the holiday season.

Plus, it’s my birthday month. What’s not to love?

But the 31 days in October 2015 left me forever changed– a little bit shattered and a little bit saved. I am not who I once was. I still love October, but it’s different now.

Ashlie’s due date was Oct. 19. As soon as I found out I was pregnant, I started doing the calculations and was thrilled I’d share a birthday month with our first baby. Starting Oct. 1, I’d wake up each morning thinking, “This is the day!” I shoved myself into jeans and boots to leave the house, grumbling about how nothing fit but still feeling amazing. Our baby girl was coming soon!

A routine doctor’s appointment on Oct. 20 revealed no changes and a dilation of something ridiculously comical— it may as well have been .00002 percent. We scheduled an NST and ultrasound for Oct. 27. I’d be 41 weeks and one day.

My Facebook memories reminded me that around this time in 2015, a woman so nicely asked if I was having twins because I was so large. (That’s a topic for another article). I assured her and all my Facebook friends that Gummy Bear was just taking her sweet time doing her makeup, and that as long as she was safe inside me, she’d come when she was ready.

However, if you’ve followed any of our story, you know that she was not safe inside me. I delivered our beautiful, perfect and sleeping Ashlie Cathren four years ago tonight…Oct. 28, 2015, at 11:22 p.m. Her umbilical cord was wrapped three times around her neck and once around her ankle. She never took a breath outside my womb.

Ashlie’s birth and death thrust me into a world I knew nothing about–a world that so many people live in but don’t talk about. One that’s filled with people who say stupid things because they don’t know what else to say. A world that completely flips upside down with a photo on Facebook, a new baby at a restaurant or a song on a the radio. A world that makes parenting even harder than it already is…A world that’s filled with love and compassion from friends, family and strangers.

When I joined the “baby loss community,” as it’s so eloquently termed, I lost a lot more than our baby.

I lost my sense of what’s “normal.” I don’t just remember our daughter’s birthday, I remember the day she died. I excuse myself or mentally check out during discussions about labor and delivery, and I still get clammy when I see a baby announcement on Facebook. I’m happy for you. Really. But I just can’t sometimes. And then there’s my favorite: I get to visit my daughter whenever I want. At the cemetery.

I lost my sense of security. Even to this day, the smallest decisions can be paralyzing. What if I do the wrong thing? I’ve always needed control, but now it can get obsessive.

I lost friendships. Some of the ones that held on are different now. It’s hard to be my most intimate self with those who’ve never even looked at the shoes I’m wearing (and I pray they never do). I’m working on that, but it still stings sometimes.

But even though I don’t really want to be in this world of loss, there have been some beautiful gains.

With the help of family, friends and people we’ll never even meet, my husband Tony and I have the privilege of founding and running an organization that gives families like ours the gift of time. Ashlie’s Embrace and the CuddleCot have allowed hundreds of parents in 10 states the precious moments to create memories with their babies after stillbirth or infant loss.

My husband and I now belong to a tribe of people that have experienced the unthinkable and are stronger because of it. I have met world changers, difference makers and stigma shakers. They work tirelessly to honor their babies and make things better for those who will walk the same road. I am honored to call these people my friends.

Another gain is the gift of our son, AJ. I truly don’t know if he would exist if Ashlie had stayed. While I was pregnant with her, we’d been talking about how she’d probably be an only child. But the night I delivered her, as we held her still-warm body between us, Tony and I knew we would try again–for her and for us. I’m so glad we said yes to the pure joy and love God gave us in AJ.

The last gain is what bubbles just beneath the surface: I know who I am, I know whose I am, and I know what I have. Tony and I have been through some extremely challenging times in our marriage. Nothing tested our faith (in each other and God) more than Ashlie and her little brother AJ. We are stronger together and know we can handle literally anything that comes our way.

I have learned grace. I work hard to extend it to myself, my husband, our son and others. I have learned grit. I get up when I fall and will do whatever it takes to fulfill the life I’ve been called to live. I am grateful.

October 2015 didn’t end like I planned. But when I woke up this morning on our daughter’s 4th birthday in October 2019, surrounded by my husband, our son, the sun and the Son, I couldn’t help but smile.

I know she’s here. I’ll miss her as long as I live, but I’m grateful for the gifts she gave in her short time with us.
I love you, Ashlie. Always.