A Tale of Two Dianas.

The last six days have been brutal. And yet they’ve gone by so fast – I can’t believe that it’s already been almost a week since this whole thing started. The dust has begun to settle a little…which, I guess, is only to be expected. Life keeps moving, no matter how much you want it to just pause for a while, you know? Anyway. Now that it’s today instead of three or even four days ago (gosh that sounds so weird), I feel myself thinking more clearly. And there are two women that I owe an immense thank you to. Two women named Diana.

My “history” with Diana Stone goes back so much further than this year. I started reading her blog when I was first pregnant with Ricky, in January of 2012. She was pregnant with twins at the time, so funny and vivacious and happy. And then, the worst happened. Her story is longer than mine, but she lost her boys just like I lost my sweet Addison. Tragedy struck her once more last fall when her newborn baby, Kaden, was taken from her just days after birth. Her strength and ability to be resilient were so inspirational. And yet, at the same time, I never thought that anything close to her story could somehow be woven into my own.

Last Thursday I reached out to her – reading her story let me know how everything was going to happen, which was scary. And yet I was so glad that someone else had been willing to be open about stillbirth, because knowing was so much less scary than not knowing. To my surprise, we became friends of a sort. I’ve learned in my short time on this path that going that going through this kind of loss creates an automatic connection between you and others who have experienced it. She provided a source of comfort, knowledge and friendship from someone who has truly been there and come out on the other side of it scarred, but ok.

The other Diana is one who I don’t know her last name. But she was one of our nurses in the hospital. And she was so compassionate. So amazing. She let me know all of my options. She held my hand while I went through the final stages of labor. She dressed my daughter after her birth. She gave us Addison’s hand and foot prints on paper and in tiny shells filled with clay. She knew what to say when I thought I was going to completely fall apart. I will probably never see this woman again in my life – but she’s someone that I will be so thankful for for the rest of my life, and one of the only people who will ever hold my sweet baby.

I am so grateful to God for putting these women in my path. And in the midst of all of this, I have to say how much lighter my body feels knowing that I can recognize some of the good that has been sent our way to help us cope with this loss.

forever

{ 5 comments… add one }

  • Tami Q. May 14, 2014, 11:35 am

    Oh, Cortney! You’ve been in my prayers and on my mind. My heart has been aching for you. I lost a baby early in pregnancy and still think about my baby Quinn. I never got to see his (or her) face, as baby Quinn was less than three months along. I can’t imagine what it was like to see your baby face to face and already with Jesus Christ. I have cried for you. I will continue to pray for you through this next year. I know you will think of her for the rest of your life. She will always be your baby, never forgotten.

    Reply
    • Cortney May 15, 2014, 1:29 pm

      Thank you, Tami. And hugs for your loss – it’s never easy, no matter when it happens.

      Reply
  • LBro May 14, 2014, 6:03 pm

    I am so thankful there have been moments of peace throughout this week. I stumbled upon your blog back in October. And though an Internet stranger can’t really provide any benefit…I am just so thankful to see this post with a glimmer of hope and joy in your writing. Many, many prayers to you and yours.

    Reply
    • Cortney May 15, 2014, 1:28 pm

      Thank you – you have no idea how big of an impact the words of an internet stranger can have. Thank you.

      Reply
  • Kelly May 15, 2014, 5:11 am

    You are blessed.

    Reply

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