Emma's Corner

My biggest fear, as time goes by, is that Emma will be forgotten. I can't even type that with out it grabbing a hold of my heart. I don't want to forget what she looked like, how beautiful she was, how perfect, how wanted.how loved.  But when you loose a child to stillbirth, you are left with very little keepsakes, things to help you remember them. These silent angels, leave footprints on our hearts, but no footprints on earth. I have boxes full of pre-school paintings, and school pictures, and mothers day gifts, and fathers day gifts, that belong to Sara, and Simon, and Tomas. They tell a story, their stories, of how they are growing up, how the are healthy and happy and alive !

With Emma, I have a little corner in my bedroom, with very few things that are hers, and others I have just bought, and some were gifts.  One of the hardest things, is not having an actual picture of her, at the time it wasn't  hospital practice to take pictures of the baby (sadly I think this still has not changed). During those days I was in hospital,if somone from the hospital staff, had talked to me, shed some light on me, amidst all my fear and confusion. I am sure we could have figured something out. One last picture, can make such a difference, in the years to come. Instead I  framed, her last ultrasound, it's so special to me, I cannot tell you  how many times I have kissed that little frame goodnight !

The little angel with a butterfly net in her hand, was given to me by my mom. Shortly after Emma died, my mom picked it out, amidst other angels in a locked cabinet, in an "Angel Store". When the shop keeper gave it to  my mom, she was shocked to discover, the name on the underside "Emma" ! In a whole shop of angels, that's the one she picked out ! The large cherub, was hand painted , and given to us by a family friend, like so many of the angels I have, lovely gestures of friendship, that symbolize "our little angel".

The ribbon and key, were given to my husband, at Emma's funeral, the little key is what locked her little white casket, the ribbon has written upon it "a last goodbye". I have stared at this ribbon and key, everyday for the last 12 years, it is a constant reminder of how, precious life is, and that tomorrow is not promised to anyone, not even little babies.

The teddy bear, pulls at my heart, everytime I touch it and hold it. It was hers, we bought it for her, during my pregnancy, just like we had bought one for Tomas, just like my teddy bear, my daddy had bought for me when I was born. A traditon, if you will, that we decided we wanted for our children. Tomas still has his, I still have mine, almost 40 years old he is. My darling Emma never got hers. I cannot tell you how much guilt I felt, about not being given the chance, to place her teddy bear with her inside her little casket. Surely he would protect her, during her dark, cold slumber. He would watch over her, because I couldn´t. Nobody gave me that chance, not even an extra blanket, to keep her warm. In my mind for such, a long time, these things worried me, like I had failed her as a mother.

The little box, with its sweet pattern, holds inside it, so many things, things you can see and touch...and others that aren't even tangible. It always reminds me of one of my favorite Christmas carols, sung by Bing Crosby. It's called The Littlest Angel, I would hum it to Tomas when he was a baby. The song is about a little angel, who has a box with him in heaven :


How all day he would play with a little boxThat to others had no wordsOh, but there were treasures in this little boxThe treasures he brought from Earth

I feel the same way about my little box, it holds treasures, that, well... that are only special to me. A little, pink striped onesie, a tiny little bib, a very tiny little diaper, all of my ultrasounds, a pink pillow case, and a pink and white, hand knit sweater, that I selfishly kept, for myself. I would hate myself for many,many months for having kept her little sweater. But I needed it, it reminded me of her. It is still painful to open up the box, but once in a while I do. The  sweet little box, safegaurds,  nine months of waiting and dreaming,  four days of anguish and pain in the hospital, and represents a lifetime of never wanting to forget, what happened and what could have been. To forget these things, would be to forget Emma, and I never, want that to happen. This little corner in our home, albeit quite small, takes up such a huge area in my heart. It has helped me to heal, it reminds me of how far I have come, and how much further I still have to go !


xo, Diana