On June 29, 2014, our lives were blessed with another perfect, little girl. Ten fingers, ten toes, a dimpled chin, and eyes that could light a room and fill your heart. Laiken was a true blessing from day one. She was an easy-going baby, who loved to eat and just take in the world. Her eyes would get so wide, as she looked at you and looked around her surroundings. Looking back, I now know Laiken knew she was a “true angel.” I read a quote that has stuck with me. “An angel wrote in the book of life my baby’s date of birth, then whispered as she closed the book, “Too beautiful for earth.” In her heart, she knew she was never meant to fall from heaven. Laiken took in as much beauty as she could in the short time she knew she was going to be here.
On October 2, 2014, our lives were changed forever. Laiken and her big sister Rhilyn were taken to their sitter’s house for a day of learning and fun, while Bob and I went to work. I dropped them off, and can still clearly picture in my mind her loving sitter holding Laiken at the front door and waving goodbye to me through the glass. I was unaware that would be the last time I would see my sweet Laiken alive. Laiken went to nap after a morning full of belly laughing and never woke up.
We lost our little love just two days after her three-month birthday to SUIDS/SIDS. Losing an innocent child is hard in itself, losing an innocent child and having no answer why, makes the pain even worse. Everyone, including my husband Bob, and myself followed safe sleeping when we watched her. She went to nap that day on a firm pack and play mattress on her back. Like any other three month old, Laiken decided to flip on her stomach. At some point, Laiken passed in her sleep.
I can remember the moment I got the call like it was yesterday and I will for the rest of my life. I was in my classroom testing one of my students when I got a message. At that moment, my life would never be the same. When I called the sitter, she could not say anything other than, “Gina.” I could hear her tears through the phone. A lieutenant then took the phone and started telling me that my daughter was being taken to the hospital. It took time for me to even realize of which daughter he was speaking. In my mind, in the short 2 minutes on the phone, I had hundreds of thoughts rush through my mind. Never in my life did I expect that Laiken would be found not breathing.
I left school and what was a 6 minute drive to the hospital felt like an eternity. I again had all these thoughts, but never imagined what I was about to hear. I arrived at the hospital where Bob was waiting. When I ran through the door I was greeted by police officers, nurses, and doctors. We were taken to a private room and briefed by a doctor. That is when I heard for the first time what had happened. Laiken was found face-down in the pack and play and not breathing. She was given CPR immediately from our sitter, and 911 was called and she was rushed to the hospital. After doctors did all they could, Laiken was still not responding. I remember seeing the door to the room open and knowing by the look on the nurse and doctor’s face, before the words “she didn’t make it” came out of his mouth… that my sweet baby was now an angel.
One would think that everything after that would be a blur. The hard part is I can still replay everything, minute by minute. I can remember falling to the floor, and the man who baptized her picking me up and telling me “Come on, be strong.” I can remember hearing my mom who was on the phone screaming, “What’s going on?” I can remember it all… yet I shouldn’t. Honestly, at times I wish I couldn’t replay it all piece by piece, minute by minute, second by second. In that room, I had ever emotion possible come to the surface.
Bob and I held each other and just sat in shock with tears rolling down our faces in utter disbelief. Our life would never be what is was before October 2, 2014. Again, many thoughts ran through my head. This time, they were different thoughts. I thought to myself, “What if I didn’t go to work that day?” What if she were found a minute earlier? What if she were taken to a different hospital or had a different doctor? Truth be told, and I have learned this over time, I can question and question and ask myself why, why, why, but it will just make me crazy. All I can do is believe what I need to believe in order to wake every morning and find peace in any way I can that I am living life while my baby is not.
Since Laiken became an angel, life has never been the same. Some days I feel good, some I feel OK, and other days I don’t even want to get out of bed. However, I have to and that is what I tell myself. Child loss is not an event or a day that happened, it is a journey of survival for the rest of one’s life. One of the hardest parts in this endless journey is when everyone else is able to move forward and you are still stuck in the moment your world was flipped. I have to get out of bed for my family, my students, and most of all, for Laiken. That is what I tell myself many days. She would never want her mommy to be sitting at home, never smiling again.
When Laiken passed in October, we also found out we were being blessed with another baby just weeks later. This was very difficult news in the beginning, but as I look at Kallyn, Laiken’s baby sister, I know she is nothing short of a miracle. She was hand-picked by her sister Laiken. Kallyn is the definition of a “Rainbow Baby.” She is truly our beauty after a horrific storm. Kallyn, however, was not put here on earth to replace Laiken or to fill the space that is forever in my heart, but instead Kallyn was sent by her sister to show us that beauty is still here. She shows us that life is amazing, and we need to live life to the fullest. She brings our family such joy and happiness. When I sit at the table and feed Kallyn, I look at one of Laiken’s photos and I say, “Thank you!” The hard part is living life and making memories without her physically being here. Every photo is incomplete in my eyes and will be my whole life. However, when I take a moment and look around, every day my sweet angel Laiken gives me signs that she is around.
I have no doubt in my mind that my sweet Laiken is watching over us with a smile on her face. She is painting the sky pink and dancing on the clouds with the sun’s warmth touching her face. I love when people ask about her or share a story or a memory of her. Many think that not talking about her makes it easier; they couldn’t be more wrong. When I hear her sweet name, I am reminded that she is loved by many, that she is still thought of, and that she touched many people’s lives. I may shed a tear, but I have learned over time that tears are okay. Time, unfortunately, is the only thing that heals a pain this deep. Will I ever forget and not think of Laiken? Never. But, the pain gets a bit more bearable. A mother’s grief is timeless, just as her love. It will never go away, but over time, I have learned how to carry on with my life and deal with it in my way. The hardest part about losing a child…is…living everyday afterwards. There was a life before Laiken, a wonderful life with Laiken, and a life without our sweet Laiken.