spit up.

Spit Up by Lynette Polinder

I drift to sleep each night with you on my mind

and wake up only to find you there again.

I've been sleeping with your cow and blanket.

Both still smell of you.

Each day your scent grows more faint

and I hate the thought of losing it.

We placed your onesie in a sealed bag

to keep your smell as long as we can.
It's only been a week since you left
and your scent is already fading.

People have told me that time will help ease the pain

but I fear it will also dull the memories I have of you

your smell

even the sound of your little cry.

I've been watching videos of you

looking at photos

and burying my face in your blankets.

It's the closest I can get to you

but the computer screen is far from your soft skin
and can't replace your warm body.

The past four months feel like a strange dream

but when I wake up I can still smell the spit up on your blanket.

a sweet gift.

This sweet hat with olives on it and booties arrived in the mail on Monday morning. They were made by a friend from Lynden, WA. I know this might be strange since Olive never got to wear them, but I found them to be so cute that I wanted to share them with you guys.

My letter to Olive.

Hi Sugies...it’s your mama,

I woke up the last two mornings with a deep hole in my heart. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. You came so early—too early, and if there was anything I could do to go back in time and change your early arrival I would do it in a heart beat.

You were my first little love, my firstborn, and no one will ever replace you. Oh Olive…the place you brought me…the people you’ve caused me to cross paths with, and the things you taught me in your short little life are greater than I every imagined possible.

You fought against everything that came against you, and your feisty spirit took us all by surprise. I miss you…and I’m going to continue to miss you for the rest of my life. I miss your big bright eyes and your sweet little button nose. I will miss kissing the  folds in your neck, your expressions, and your little goat-like cry.

Since meeting you I’ve fallen more in love with your dad. He is so proud of you and loved you the best he could. I loved hearing him make up songs for you every morning and the way he would be able to calm you down when the rest of couldn’t.

Olive Hope, you are one of my heroes. You fought harder than any baby should have to fight.

I still have so many unanswered questions with why God never chose to heal you here on earth and make your broken places whole.  It certainly wasn’t because people weren’t asking him with sincere hearts. I keep telling Jesus that He has a lot of explaining to do someday. But for today I’m going to thank Him for each day we’ve spent with you. You were a gift to us and tonight I can rest knowing you are no longer in pain.

There will be no more IV’s, ng tubes, no more shunt surgeries, infection, blood draws, apnea, and struggle. You have a new body now, a new brain, new lungs—but I’m certain you still have that feisty little spirit.

I can’t wait to see you again when I get to Heaven. I’m not sure how it will all work, but I hope I will get to raise you there. Until then I’m afraid I will just keep living with this hole in my heart.

I love you,

Your Mama

Video for Olive's Memorial Service

This was the video I made for Olive's memorial service. The first song, "Sweet Sweet Baby" by Michelle Featherstone was one that I sang to Olive often in the last four months. The last song, "Come to Jesus" by Chris Rice was the song playing when Olive took her last breath. Olive passed on Rusty's chest at the same time the words in the song sang, "and with the final heart beat..."


Click here for the link on youtube.