A little brown bear

As Long As I Live You Will Live

As Long As I Live You Will Be Remembered

As Long As I Live You Will Be Loved

~Author unknown

For the first year after Sydney died, I slept with a little brown bear that some sweet nurse put in her hands on the last day we held her. When I gave her to the nurse before I was discharged, I held onto the bear. They brought back her clothes and blankets, and still, I held onto the bear. Other moms left with their new babies bundled up against the cold February wind, and I wrapped this little bear in Sydney's pink blanket that she was wrapped in on the day she was born.

Over the first few months, I gathered more items to try to comfort me. After my first support group meeting, when I realized I wasn't crazy because the other moms understood how I felt, I stopped at Target and bought a bigger bear. This one was about 18" inches long. I took the bear home, asked Eric to bring me the outfit that was supposed to be Sydney's coming home outfit, and lovingly dressed that bear in Sydney's sleeper with the pink ladybugs and wrapped her in the matching blanket. I then held that bear, with my husband watching without a clue why I was dressing a bear in our daughter's clothes, and I cried. I'm sure Eric thought I had lost it at that point.

A couple of months later, a third bear joined my collection. A friend I met at that first support group showed me the bear she had that matched the bear her son was buried with. I knew that Sydney had been buried with that same bear, so I was on a mission to find one of those bears. I searched online, ebay, all over, and finally, I broke down and called the funeral home. I'm sure they thought I was a nut. I asked them if they could order this bear for me and the funeral director promised to look into it. He called me back only moments later and said, yes, we can order the bear, but you'll have to pay for it. He could've told me it would cost $10,000 for that bear, and I would've said yes. Fortunately, it was a much more affordable $13. A few days later, he called again to tell me my bear was there and as soon as I left work, I rushed to the funeral home to pick up my bear. When I arrived, someone in the office told me that the owner had told them to give me the bear, no payment required. I started bawling like a baby right in the middle of the funeral home office (which I guess isn't really the worst place for that to happen). I took that little bear home and he joined the tiny bear and the clothed bear.

As time went on, I began to wonder when or if I could give up my bears. I had gone on several trips for work in that first year and each time, tiny bear traveled with me. Each morning, I would tuck tiny bear's pink blanket into the safe where we keep Sydney's things because when I took it out each night, it smelled like her. But tiny bear went with me. I would put him in my pocket or in my purse. Needless to say, I was pretty dependent on my bears.

When Sydney's first birthday came, I felt like that was a good time to finally put away my bears. I felt so guilty, like I was trying to forget her or that I was replacing her (as I'd just found out a few weeks before that I was pregnant again). But it was my first step toward taking control over my grief. For that first year, the grief controlled me. I realized that I couldn't begin to heal unless I tried to control the grief. I know that Sydney knows she's never far from my thoughts. There have been so many things that have shown me that she's still with us, but I'll save that for another post.