her same long fingers

Her fuzzy head was nuzzled against me. It was a very rare moment for me with Bridgette. My 5th child and by far our most difficult. .. sent to us from her sister in heaven that I can imagine giggling just a little for sending us this little high needs creature.

Her laugh was contagious.
Her laugh was contagious.

So I was so appreciative of that moment. Her sleeping next to me as the sun came up .. giving me a few extra moments to lay in bed before starting our day.

… but suddenly the carpet was swept out from under me. I was pulled away by my own mind from the simple beauty of the moment. To a time 2 years ago .. snuggling another fuzzy headed baby in my bed. Baby Charlotte was just 9 months when her sister left us for heaven. The day after I was broken. Battered. Quitting. I refused to get out of bed so she came to me. Easy baby she was she snuggled right in and slept.

I felt her fuzzy head rub against my chin.. but silence inside. It seems though that moment made a imprint on me. Perhaps it what stirred me to get out of bed a few hours later..

Again.. feeling that familiar fuzzy head of hair, this time belonging to Bridgette, that my kids have all had against my chin I wondered.. What was Charlotte wearing when Jennifer died? Was it this same outfit Bridgette was wearing right then? These hand me down parade of clothes now on my final daughter.. The same size her sister before her was as the sister before both of the was fighting and then stolen by cancer.

 

Charlotte in the same jammies Bridgette was wearing on this day.
Charlotte in the same jammies Bridgette was wearing on this day.

Polka dots and ruffle bottoms.. I have a love/hate affair everyday dressing Bridgette in these clothes that were a daily part of a difficult time, but also a sacred one. Because Jennifer was still here. .. Often helping me pick out what her little sister should wear that day to her radiation appointments.

And my mind moved back again. This time just one day. The February 12th. The last day I touched my Jennifer while her heart still beat.

I was gifted 10 more days..
I was gifted 10 more days..

I remember .. not in the first person though.. I remember like watching a bootlegged movie but I am the star. Its not quite in focus.. but I see 2 blonde haired boys running out to a blue mini van parked on the street. And a baby .. somewhere.. somebody must have been holding a baby.

The doors to the van slide open. A pink booster seat is the first one at the door. ..This mother falls. .. screams. .. loud.. deep from her soul. A pain so palpable it is literally breaking her apart. You can see she is fighting it. .. trying to contain the strength in her legs but unable to. ..

Wailing. Collapsing. Thrashing.

“get them away .. get them away .. don’t let them see…im sorry I’m sorry im sorry. i can’t i can’t i can’t. “

Another woman.. the kids Auntie shuffles them off down the street.. The husband. He desperately tries to console his wife. Although you can see his fear. Will he be able to? Will she ever come back to him.. to them?

He tries to walk with her.. but eventually ends up carrying her into the house. His wife wailing.. in pain and spewing desperate apologies. Once inside she pushes him away and runs. .. Back to the room. Pink shag carpeting and a sound machine playing the sounds of the ocean. A messy bed covered in a princess comforter and towels. .. She collapses..

emptying .. a mothers soul in sorrow.

Now again laying in bed with a sleeping baby. Silent tears falling. Those same words come to me.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.. ”

Until a hand. A hand that made us smile when we saw it the day she was born. Small, with the same exact long fingers her biggest sister had. ..

This sweet hand of my sleeping baby.. it reached up and gently cupped and stroked my face.

inhale.

exhale.

ok

ok jennifer.

inhale.

exhale.DSC_0684

…until there is a cure..

 

 

 

10 Responses to “her same long fingers”

  1. There are absolutely no words- no mother or family should have to go through this torture. My girls and I will continue to spread awareness- LOVE4JLK always

  2. Your words still rip open my heart. I’m still here, still reading, and still sending you love.

    Thank you Jennifer for sending your family little Bridgette!

  3. Reading these words…it’s like watching a nightmare unfold before me, a nightmare that I fully know the ending. I can’t possibly understand how completely broken you feel. You didn’t fail your child, the entire world did. She should still be here, she should have had a cure. Thank you for sharing your pain…it is opening eyes and will save lives. Because of your words, part of Jennifer still lives…she will absolutely always matter.

  4. My heart is so touched by your pain and your love and your spirit and by all the beautiful words that you’ve shared. Thank you. The tribe of us who you and Jennifer have reached is bigger than you know. Saying yes as often as I possibly can to my three and trying to never take for granted all those moments of grace and beauty I encounter everyday. Your blog is always one of those moments for me. Until there is a cure I will keep spreading the word and the story of JLK’s love and bravery.

  5. Still here, still reading. Your words continue to bring the tears. Thinking of Jennifer and your family constantly.

  6. My hearts hurts for you and your family, in my prayers everyday may god bless you and guide you through the right path, Jennifer is a very proud big Sissy.

  7. This is the 5th time I’ve come back to this specific blog post. I keep rereading it…crying, tears for a broken mother I’ve never met. I also am full of apologies…I’m so, so sorry that the world failed your eldest child. I’m so angry that I didn’t pay attention to pediatric cancer until I ran across your Love 4 JLK page on Facebook. My only child is a girl with long fingers, long brown hair with bangs, and loves princesses. She turns 6 next month. I can’t focus to plan her party, all I can think about is Jennifer…the beautiful little girl given a death sentence on her 6th birthday. I hurt so very badly for you. I don’t have much money to donate, but I will share Jennifer’s story until my dying breath. Your words and memories of Jennifer fuel a fire inside of me to keep going until that bastard DIPG is completely erased from Earth, forever. Unlock the cure to DIPG, I’m pretty sure that all pediatric cancers will become unraveled. May God comfort you and your family. Sending much love from Texas.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *