by “You have been assigned this mountain to show others it can be moved.” – unknown
The morning of May 2nd started out different than usual in that I didn’t rush. Everly woke before Major, my 3 ½ year old and I pulled her into bed to nurse. As I laid there on my side feeding her from my body I took her all in. I savored her. I distinctly remember looking into her eyes as she nursed, stroked her hair and thanked God she was mine. But she wasn’t mine. Not entirely. She was on loan and little did I know that loan was being cashed in later that afternoon.
I left for work that day not knowing it would be the last time I would hold my baby girl. I nursed her before I left because she wouldn’t take a bottle and prayed I could get home to nurse her again without having to pump. I was the Regional Manager of Georgia for lululemon athletica and my Area Director was flying in that day to visit my stores with me. I was on a store visit when I noticed I had several missed calls from my husband Josh. One of the workers came up to me and handed me the store phone. It was Josh saying in a desperate, frantic voice for me to get home and that Everly wasn’t breathing. I screamed as I dropped the phone and ran towards the door. My boss grabbed my things and ran after me asking me what was wrong. In between groans/screams I told her what he had told me and she drove me to the hospital. My husband had called me back to tell me to go to the hospital and not to come home. He would be on his way behind the ambulance. What he really didn’t tell me was that the investigators were at our house and treating it like a crime scene. He didn’t want me to have to deal with that. (My husband is a federal agent and has been on the other side of situations like this. He knew how to handle law enforcement and shielded me from that side of things)
I arrived at the hospital and someone was waiting for me. She ushered me down a hallway and another until we passed the emergency entrance. I saw a gurney and a paramedic standing there. He wouldn’t look me in the eyes and I knew. I knew my baby girl was gone. I screamed, “He won’t look at me.” Over and over until I was hoarse. The doctors and nurses who worked on her came into the tiny room they put me in conveniently positioned next to the psych ward to tell me the news. I couldn’t believe it even though I already knew in my heart that what they were saying was true. She was gone. It felt like a bad dream. I hadn’t pumped and my breasts were beyond full. I was so angry that she wasn’t alive for me to nurse. My whole body hurt, yearning for her. My husband arrived shortly after the doctors told me and I howled in pain as we held one another, hot tears streaming down my face. How in the world was my beautiful, perfect baby girl dead?
Everly was with my trusted nanny Cici the day she passed. She put her down for her nap like any other day and Everly never woke up. She passed peacefully in her sleep with no suffering. She was face up and perfectly fine. She didn’t suffocate or suffer. Her autopsy months later came back perfect. She had nothing wrong with her. It was a tough blow to hear because it would almost be easier if there was something wrong.
No one can ever prepare you for something like this. You hear of it happening and yet you never think it will happen to you. I can honestly say I was one of those people who never in a million years thought that I would lose my child. Everly was a gift from God. Through all of this I have come to the realization that God doesn’t take our babies. He received her that day but He didn’t take her. I know she is with Him and that does give me some peace. Grief is THE hardest thing I have ever been given the task of navigating and yet I knew almost immediately that God has a plan and a purpose in all of this suffering. He will see us through this. Everyone kept telling me that I can be “Mad” at God. I have never once been mad at God. I knew that God cried too that day. God didn’t mean this to harm me. The enemy did and I would NOT allow the enemy to win this one.
There’s a quote by a poet named Yung Pueblo that goes like this, “true love does not hurt, attachments do.” He goes on to say that Love cannot cause pain; attachments cause pain. When the attachments that we create in our minds break, we feel their rupture deeply, how deeply depends on how much we identify with the image that we have created. This resonated with me so deeply. I had created the perfect image in my mind of my life with my daughter. I’d bought clothes sizes ahead never once thinking she would never wear them. I assumed. I was confident she would. I was wrong. In reflecting on this, all I see when I open that closet is pride. My pride for my beautiful daughter. None of it matters. Actually she hated all of the frilly smocked dresses and large bows I put on her head. She couldn’t have cared one bit about any of it. It was my own pride and wanting that bought all of it thinking I would have her here to dress her like a baby doll. I can’t beat myself up for the images in my mind that never came to fruition or for the fancy clothes. What I do know is that the images of what would be created more pain for me in thinking about what might have been. So I choose to remember the love I gave her in the eight months she was here. The really good happy times that did happen, not the ones that didn’t and never will. To be present with my son and husband and give them a wife and mother they deserve. I am still here. There is still a purpose for my life and I must live it to the fullest.
Everly James Ford is a bright light in this dark world. She set me on a path of deep spiritual awakening and has brought me closer to our Lord during this than I ever thought possible. I am forever grateful to be her mother. I will continue to heal through this and know that I will NEVER get over her loss but will get through it, day by day, minute by minute, second by second. Each day is different and I take it as it comes. I recently left my corporate job to pursue my career as a Full time artist. Everly taught me to take risks and live big. We are not guaranteed tomorrow and I am living life out loud for her. My art helps heal me and others. It is where I find peace in the storm of her loss. Follow along via Instagram as I continue to post there about navigating the waves of grief.
@jillgordonford.art- Instagram
