"There's hope in front of me
There's a light, I still see it
There's a hand still holding me
Even when I don't believe it
I might be down but I'm not dead
There's better days still up ahead
Even after all I've seen
There's hope in front of me
There's a hope still burning
I can feel it rising through the night
And my world's still turning
I can feel your love here by my side
You're my hope
You're the light, I still see it
Your hands are holding me
Even when I don't believe it
I've got to believe
I still have hope
You are my hope."
In honor of Infant Loss Awareness Month, I teamed up with a few of my closest mom friends that too have walked this same hard journey of infant loss. These mothers are brave & still standing strong. These mothers still have hope.
It is our mission here at The Color Blue and Hope to create a safe place and community that reminds every single mother grieving the loss of her baby that she matters. She mattered before her loss and within her grief. Her role as a mother matters. Her role within life after loss matters, and it is our hope to remind her that she still has hope - it never left her.
We are launching our 'SHE MATTERS' campaign with this mission in mind. We are sharing our stories in hopes that she'll feel brave enough to share hers. There's a mama out there about to face these same trials and we want to encourage her through her grief by sharing the hope in our lives after loss.
'SHE MATTERS' campaign will raise funds for mothers grieving the loss of her baby gone too soon, while raising awareness for infant loss & the hope found within. T-shirts will spark the conversation at the grocery store, mom's groups, between fathers and can serve a mighty purpose as a gift and reminder that she matters, especially in this.
PURCHASE YOUR T-SHIRT HERE.
TELL US YOUR STORY:
She was my only daughter.
On the labor and delivery unit, I anxiously awaited the birth of my only daughter. At 40 weeks, I was
more than ready to hold my baby girl. I was in labor for 28 hours and my OBGYN left the hospital. There was no backup, no one on call.
When a nurse came to check on me and suddenly lost Finley’s heartbeat, the doctor was paged, and I was rushed to the Operating Room. Thirty-five minutes later, my doctor performed an emergency C-section, but it was too late.
Finley Elizabeth Oblander was born July 25, 2013. Due to severe neurological damage, died on August 16, 2013.
What should have been an exciting beginning to a perfect, new life ended in seemingly insurmountable tragedy.
Three months prior to Finley’s death, my dad died unexpectedly. Finley became my hope for living, but then she died. I didn’t want to go on. Shortly after Finley’s death, my husband left me, 2 weeks to be exact. There was nothing more that I wanted then to End my life. It was too much.
LIFE AFTER LOSS:
There were times I couldn’t breathe thinking about the fact that she died. I hated it. I couldn’t stand the feeling that took over me. Whoosh. One wave at a time, out of nowhere it happened. A babies’ cry, a cute pink outfit, a pregnant belly. It hurt.
When she first died, I spent most of my days trying to breathe, trying to not cry. Everything made me cry. The couple at the store, the old woman sitting alone. Life became in great focus, amplified.
I think it’s because I saw heaven meet earth one Friday afternoon,
the day she took her last breath.
While heaven met earth, I stepped down to hell. I wanted my life to end. I knew how it would happen, in the pool, with a note left sharing why. I HATED having to live forever with watching her die and having to make the worst decision of my life, releasing her to heaven. Why was I handed such horrible cards? What was the reason to give her then take her? “God gives and takes away, really?”
Life has turned many corners and directions. There has been no cycle, no rational, no certainty. The only thing that has been certain is the work it has taken. Facing it, stepping to the mirror. YUCK. The face facing the mirror was someone I didn’t even know. I didn’t know who I was. I grappled, I questioned, I had no clue who the woman was that God created. I needed an identity again. Noelle Moore….a part from Finley, separated from Tim, my dad. Who was I?
I STILL HAVE HOPE:
Hope was all I had. I had to find it. My “Path A,” filled with all things beautiful including: a happy marriage, 3 beautiful children, a quaint bungalow, a golden retriever, an amazing job, beach vacations, a ravishing romance, all went out the window. “Path A” ended, but I didn’t want it to. I tried to backtrack, turn around, climb up to where I started. I wanted my life back. However, over the last 4 years, I finally got to a place where I realized God is the giver of NEW dreams, new hopes. I needed a “Path B.” I started to pray for renewed dreams, for renewed visions, because the past is the past and I cannot change it. No matter how hard I try, temper tantrum or not, it’s done, I must step towards the new. Embrace it.
TO THE GRIEVING MOM:
The enemy comes to steal, kill and destroy each and every one of us. He tries to do so even more with those who will make an impact on the kingdom of God in great ways. The Lord did not “take your child.” Yes, he allowed it to happen, but the enemy wants nothing more than for you to lose heart and hope. Do not lose hope. Look for the meaning. Look for how you can make meaning out of your tragedy to serve others, to honor your child. You are not alone. There are many around you suffering. Reach out, don’t be afraid. Get help. Don’t do it alone. Honor your child when you speak his or her name.
Share the depths of joy and pain.
I was born in the Winter Park Hospital in 1980 and lived in the Orlando area most of my life. I attended Orangewood Christian School from kindergarten through 12th grade then accepted a volleyball scholarship to attend Rollins College where I was also a member of the Chi Omega Sorority.
I attended Rollins from 1999-2003. After college, I lived many places including San Diego, California where I worked in the Event Industry as an Event Coordinator and Marketing Project Manager.