Ashleigh's Baby

In my last post I wrote about Ashleigh and Christopher. This post is about Ashleigh, and Christopher's baby sister Tara.

At the time of Christopher's death he was Alan and Marivic's only child. I can only imagine how hard it must have been for them to be to be left alone as a couple. Our situation was much different, when Ashleigh passed away we still had three sons we needed to take care of. We still had the "noise" of children in our home as well as the responsibilities and obligations that come with having children.

Now, it is extremely important to understand that one child can not replace the loss of another. But empty arms can be filled with the love of another. It was the best news to receive when a few months following Christopher's death, Alan and Marivic announced that they were expecting a baby.

On the day of Tara's birth, Ashleigh was half-way through her series of radiation treatments (story still to come). Ashleigh and I waited patiently at the hospital for the baby's arrival, and were two of the first to meet her when Alan brought her from the delivery room. She was a beautiful baby girl, and a precious gift not only to Alan and Marivic... but to all of us. It was so good to see them with a child in their arms again.


Ashleigh of course, was the youngest child in our family. Many of her little friends had younger siblings, including her best friend Morgan. Since Ashleigh didn't have a baby in her family, she began to refer to Tara as her baby. Just as we had tended Christopher, we also tended Tara. On the days that Tara came to our house Ashleigh got to play "big sister", and she truly enjoyed it. When her little friends talked of their "babies" Ashleigh would say, "my baby is Tara."

In those final months of Ashleigh's life, when we knew that the tumor was growing, she slowly began to lose a lot of her abilities... things like walking, and eating, and talking; just to name a few. When her speech was affected it became slow and slurred, until the time came that she couldn't speak at all.

But before that time came, we did plenty of talking and singing and laughing as I lay in her bed with her night after night. One of our favorite songs to sing was A Happy Family. Every night we would sing:

I love Ashleigh; she loves me
we love daddy, yes siree;
He loves us, and so you see,
we are a happy family.

It was a song that lasted a long time, because we sang a verse for daddy and each of her boys, and her Granpa's and Granma's and every aunt, uncle and cousin in the Marsden and Leger families. When we sang "...we love Tara, yes siree..." Ashleigh would always chime in with "my baby is Tara" with her slow and slurred speech. To this day I love to sing that song quietly into the ears of my grandbabies, and in the car with the pre-school grandchildren as we go on "Grandma Days". We always sing "...we love Ashleigh, yes siree..." and we know that she loves us, and that she loves Tara, and all of the rest of our family.

Twenty years is a long time ago. So many memories that I have... and so many that I wish I could recall. I don't know what the last words Ashleigh said to me actually were. But I can tell you that the last words I remember hearing her say, were... "my baby is Tara."

Love you Tara.

Ashleigh and Christopher

If this picture was featured in my "Classics and Favorites" series on my other blog... hands down it is a classic. Alan and I often traded baby-sitting. He took this picture while I attended the temple one morning. I love the expressions on their faces. What were they thinking? I LOVE them!!!

A few days ago while preparing dinner I was listening to the weather report on the news. Our winter has been unusually warm and on this particular day... February 7, it looked and felt like a beautiful spring day outside. As I listened to the news, my mind suddenly went back twenty-two years ago to February 7, 1990. It was my nephew Christopher's third birthday. But Christopher wasn't with us that day... he had passed away just eight weeks and one day earlier.

Christopher's passing was sudden, unexpected, and a shock to all of our family. I found out that day, in a very real way, that a broken heart was an actual physical pain. I couldn't even begin to comprehend how my brother and sister-in-law felt.

On this "first" birthday after Christopher's passing, the weather was much different than what I previously described. It snowed, and snowed all day long. It was winter at it's finest. Nonetheless, I felt a deep desire to go and visit the cemetery, so I drove up the mountain and parked the car. The snow was very deep on the hillside and still falling heavily from the sky. Through the years, there have been many times that we have waded through deep snow to find our little ones graves. The cemetery is a cold and lonely place on a stormy winter day.

I didn't know on that day, twenty-two years ago, what was looming ahead for me and my child. I didn't know then that my brother would become my "ally" of sorts, as we would soon be siblings both living the same... yet different experiences of going through this life with the devastating loss of a beloved child.

I'm sure that to our extended family the names Christopher and Ashleigh are synonymous to each other; they often are to me. During their short lives they knew each other well. They were playmates and friends, as well as cousins. They were born just three months apart and they left this earth in just over twenty-one months of each other. Each day that goes by takes us one day further from the time we spent with them here on earth, and at the same time... is a day closer to the unimaginably glorious reunion that will take place between parents and children. As the years have passed, my confidence has increased in my belief that Ashleigh and Christopher's "timing" together on earth and in heaven, is not coincidental.

They were the best of friends from their infancy.

As the "big" sister in the family, I always felt a certain responsibility to look out for my younger siblings. Isn't that what big sisters do? On August 16, 1990, it was my little brother Alan who was one of the first to arrive at my home upon hearing the news about Ashleigh. During a conversation between me and Alan before that fateful day, I clearly remember him saying to me that I would never have to worry about losing a child, because lightening never strikes twice. But lightening did strike twice, and this time when it hit, it was my little brother that was looking out for me.

My memories of Christopher are tender (you can read more here). He was an intelligent child. I can still hear his little voice in my mind and see his handsome face. Although I have mourned the loss of my own child, I can still shed tears that are exclusively for Christopher. He has a piece of my heart. I am grateful he is my family. I believe with all of my heart that he and Ashleigh are together, and that thought has brought me much comfort. They are lights to all of our family. A reminder to each of us that families really are eternal, that we must put effort into our relationships, and love one another unconditionally.

I love Alan and Marivic. They have been a source of strength to me through these many years; they are "rocks". Not only are they our family, but they have been friends to Mike and I, as the four of us have been on this "journey".

When I try to comprehend that joyous reunion I mentioned earlier, well... there are no words to describe. But, I'm hoping that my brother and I will someday be trading baby-sitting again when we give up our "empty-nester" lifestyles in order to raise our little ones during the millennium. Can you just imagine that day?

Love you Alan and Marivic!

All of the Marsden cousins in August of 1989, just a few months before Christopher passed away. I have always loved the fact that Christopher and Ashleigh stand together in this picture.

Christmas Wreathes

December 12, 2011

Another Christmas season has come and gone; and just like that... it's almost the middle of January. I think that many of us share similar traditions during the holidays; work parties, church parties, family parties, school concerts, visits with Santa at the mall, "The Nutcracker" ballet, the lights at Temple Square. We missed Temple Square this year; but, I finally got to go to "The Forgotten Carols" which I hope is a new tradition.

Although many families have similar traditions, we have a tradition that I'm sure few of our acquaintances share... that is our Christmas visit to the cemetery to place wreathes at the graves of Ashleigh and Christopher. This always takes place on December the twelfth, because that is the anniversary of Christopher's death.

Usually it is Mike and I and my parents who make this Christmas visit (Christopher's parents; Alan and Marivic, live in California). For Michael and I, this was our twenty-first Christmas visit to the cemetery. Most years the cemetery is deep with snow, and we have to be very careful as we walk up hill to the graves so that we don't slip and fall (especially Dad and Mom). When there is snow we have to dig to uncover our two markers. This is always done by my Dad and Mike, who then situate the wreath stands (after Mike confirms with me, "Christopher's wreath is gold and Ashleigh's red?"} and secure them into the ground; which is difficult because the ground is frozen, and because the snow is so deep, we aren't sure if the stands are in the ground or just in the snow. This year there was no snow so it was an easy task to stick the wreath stands right into the ground where we were confident they would remain until wreath retrieval. Wreath retrieval is usually up to me. I always go before New Years, because if I don't, we run the risk of the wreathes being removed by the cemetery people (that happened one year).

Our cemetery visits vary each year. Sometimes we are quick, and other times we spend a little more time; sharing some tender moments, sometimes a prayer together, sometimes a tear or two. It is truly a sacred spot. It has been dedicated through the power of the priesthood. On the morning of the resurrection, this is where I will greet my daughter. Can you imagine how that is going to be?

December 12, 2009

So, what exactly does this Christmas wreath mean to me? To me it is a representation of two gifts. The first gift... a visual acknowledgement that she is remembered by us. I can't buy her dolls or dresses anymore, nor can I fill her stocking, all I can do is place this wreath at her grave to show whomever passes by, that the little girl who is buried there is loved. The second gift... it isn't something anyone can see as they pass by her grave. It is simply... me. It is my renewed commitment to be a better person; to try harder to be the person I am supposed to be. To be kinder, more forgiving, to have more patience, to show more tolerance, to be less selfish, to murmer less, to serve more, to sum it up... to be more Christlike. That is my gift to her, so that on that glorious morning I can take her by the hand and say, "let's go home." And as Ashleigh herself said, "Oh... what a day." It truly will be.

A Mother's Thoughts

These are the thoughts that I prepared to be read at Ashleigh's funeral, by my friend Lola Stansfield. I was tempted, briefly, to "edit" my writing (which I hope has improved through the years), but decided that it should be printed just as I wrote it twenty years ago.

It's hard to know where to begin when I talk about my Ashleigh. If you will just let me share with you for a few minutes some of my feelings about her maybe you will be able to understand in a small way what a great joy she has been to me and what a privilege and honor it is for me to be her Mother.

Ashleigh was a precious gift to me from my Heavenly Father. She was an answer to my prayers. This past year we have been hoping and praying for a miracle, but I have seen many miracles this year. I have seen the miracle of friendship, of sisterhood, of service given freely, of extended family bonding together all because of one little girl. I have seen the miracle of love. The unconditional love our Saviour has for each of us. That is the love that Ashleigh has for me. That is the love she has for her daddy and for her boys.

Ashleigh is such an important part of our family. She's our little Princess. She always loved to get dressed up pretty. On Sundays if she had on a new dress, she always came into the living room to twirl for her daddy and her boys. The boys used to sing to her, "Isn't she lovely, isn't she beautiful." or "hey, did you happen to see the most beautiful girl in the world, and if you did was it Ashleigh?"

You can see the boys love Ashleigh just as much as she loves them. When I asked my Heavenly Father to send me a daughter, I explained to him that I wanted my boys to have a sister in the home so that they would learn how important it is for them to honor the daughters of our Heavenly Father. They treated their sister the way a precious daughter of our Father should be treated.

There's always a special relationship between a daddy and his little girl, and Ashleigh was very smart. She knew she had a good thing going. Michael did everything he could for his little girl and more. If you came to our house on an evening you'd probably see Mike laying on the floor and Ashleigh sitting on his back reaching over his shoulder into a bowl of popcorn.

Occasionally Ashleigh and I would take a day off and go on the road with Mike to Preston, Idaho. While he visited his stores the two of us would visit our favorite stores. Mine was the craft store and Ashleigh's was the basement of King's. That was where they kept all of the toys.

Michael understood the special relationship that Ashleigh and I had also. He never denied me the joys of spoiling myself with frivolities for Ashleigh. If I came home from shopping and showed him a pair of Osh Kosh socks I'd spent $5 on just because they matched the outfit perfectly, he never complained. He just laughed and said, "Oh, won't my little girl make a fashion statement."

At the end of July he supported me patiently as I insisted on painting and re-carpeting Ashleigh's bedroom. It made me happy to see my little girls room, the way I'd always wanted it to look. I wanted it to be a beautiful room for angels to visit.

Ashleigh and I used to sit in the living room, and Mike would be on the floor or the couch, and I would point to him and say, "he's mine." Her eyes would light up and she'd say, "he's mine."

"He's my Babycakes." I'd say.

"No, he's my Babycakes." She'd reply.

After going back and forth a few times, the two of us would jump up and see who could get to him first, and we'd kiss him and hug him, and Mike would go along with the game by trying to decide who he belonged to.

Sometimes Ashleigh started the game first and sometimes I would. And then there were those days when Ashleigh would start, "he's mine" and I would say, "you can have him."

Can anyone in the ward forget the day that Becky and I sang, and Ashleigh and Morgan came up on the stand to entertain you? Poor Becky, they were standing right next to her, laughing and waving at the congregation. When I realized what was happening, I just looked at the music and thought, "just a few more lines and it's over." I could already feel the laughter rising in my throat. Ashleigh had a great love for Becky and Morgan.

Ashleigh used to say, "I love this" or "I don't love that." She didn't usually use the word like. One night Mike, Ashleigh and I were over at the Johnson's. We had been eating some treats and as we were leaving Steve picked up a piece of half eaten candy and said, "someone didn't love this."

I used to say to people, "I can't believe I got a girl, and a good one too." And she was good. She always obeyed me. When I lay in her bed with her at night, my favorite story to tell her was how I prayed to Heavenly Father for a baby girl, and that she was the baby girl I prayed for. That I wanted her to be a kind girl and to love others. She was a very kind girl and she did love others.

Sometimes you may hear me say that I have a family of fussy eaters. Ashleigh always ate everything I put in front of her and she always used a "dingelhopper."

There have been times this past year that Ashleigh sometimes showed bad behavior, maybe a little bit of a temper. She didn't want her mommy to leave her. Often times I took her with me wherever I went, and sometimes if I left alone, Mike ended up bringing her to me.

She went through as lot for a little girl. She didn't understand what was happening to her. She was frightened, and fought this sickness from the very beginning. While in the hospital last year she looked at me and said, "ohhh... what a day!"

Ashleigh has a great love for all of her family. At Christmastime, I asked her Grandpa Leger if he would build a little crib for her doll, Comfort. We went to the store (Leger's Deli) in Park City one day and Grandpa had the crib finished and in a box. We tried to sneak it in the car and Ashleigh said, "is that my Comfort's bed?"

She loved to play with her cousins, particularly those closest to her (age); Russell, Melissa and Ammanda. She loved her cousin Christopher. I tended him for a while and the two of them were quite a pair. They used to watch videos, and one day the two of them were sitting in front of the TV watching Alice in Wonderland. Ashleigh pointed to the TV and said, "look, a fafa fly." Christopher turned to look at Ashleigh with a disgusted look on his face and said, "that's not a fafa fly, it's a butterfly, look a pink butterfly and a blue butterfly."

It broke my heart when Christopher passed away nearly two years ago. My cousin passed away when I was a child and I missed the friendship that we could have had, and now Ashleigh would grow up missing that too. But Ashleigh and Christopher are together now, and that thought has made it easier for me to let her go.

When Christopher's baby sister was born last October, I told Ashleigh she needed to take care of Tara because that's what Christopher wanted her to do. If anyone talked about babies around Ashleigh, she would say, "my baby is Tara." Even at the beginning of July, as she rapidly lost her speech, I would ask "Ashleigh, who's your baby?" and she would say, "Tara."

Ashleigh loved her friends. All last winter she talked about her birthday, and we planned to have a party with her friends. As her birthday approached, I knew her tumor was back, and I prayed, "Heavenly Father, please let her have her birthday." Her birthday came, her friends came, we had fun. She could hardly walk by then, but she was content and happy watching her friends have fun. The night of her birthday I prayed, "Heavenly Father, she's had her birthday, if you want her now, you can have her." But our Heavenly Father does everything in his own time. He knows His plan, he allowed us to have Ashleigh a while longer, so that we could learn true service and what it means to endure to the end, and what it means to love unconditionally.

We were able to take Ashleigh to California in June. Many of our extended family went and we had a great trip. On the way down we stopped to spend the night at the Peppermill. I took Ashleigh to the pools for a short time, but then the two of us returned to our room alone. It had been a long day of driving and Ashleigh was hot. As she lay on the bed I became scared, and I thought, "what have I done, I'm out here in the middle of the desert with a sick child and I don't even know where a hospital is." So I got down on my knees and said, "Heavenly Father I'm scared, my Ashleigh has a fever and I'm out here in the middle of nowhere. I'm just a mother asking you to make my baby well, and to let us have this trip we all need." Her fever went away.

The next day our drive to the beach house went great. Our entire week was uneventful and we had a marvelous trip together. My Ashleigh-O never complained. She sat patiently in the beach house waiting for any one of us to take her to the beach. On the beach we would sit her in a lounge chair with an umbrella to shade her, she'd sit there for hours, happy to watch the rest of us romp and play.

She was unable to sit up very well without her back supported, sometimes Granpa Marsden would dig a little hole in the sand and set her in it, and build the sand up to her waist to help support her. He's give her a bucket and spade to dig in the sand.

She tried so hard to communicate with us, but her speech was becoming very slow and slurred. She would say, "I want a..." but at times we couldn't understand the rest, so we'd run around the beach house, pointing at things until her face would break out in a grin and we knew we had the right thing.

I used to love to say, "I love you Ashleigh." Because when I did she always grinned and she said, "I love you too." When we drove in the car with just the two of us, often times we would be holding hands. I remember one day the two of us were driving to Preston with Mike, and we were enjoying our conversation. Mike got a little excited as he talked and Ashleigh misinterpreted his tone as anger. She said, "daddy don't get mad at my best friend."

Ashleigh is indeed my best friend. Our relationship has been very special. She has been my constant companion for four years, four months and four days. We loved to go shopping, to lunch, to go on walks, and to sing songs. We did everything together.

This last year has been a happy one. Our Heavenly Father was watching out for us. Our Christmas holiday was the best ever, our vacation as I have mentioned was wonderful. Ashleigh went through a lot for a little girl, nearly eight weeks of radiation therapy on a daily basis, three MRI's, and brown medicine. Ashleigh fought it the whole way. She also went through eye surgery, wore eye patches and glasses.

One day in the early stages of radiation I became frustrated. She wasn't cooperating. I couldn't get her to understand I was fighting for her very life. I said to her, "if you don't do it for yourself, do it for the loved ones in your life." She went through all that for me, because she loved me. Just so I could have her for a while longer.

We never told Ashleigh what the doctor told us. I didn't feel it was necessary to explain that to a three-year-old. I don't regret it now. I had to prepare her in my own way. Remembering I've always held fast to my faith that my Heavenly Father could heal her if it was His will. I taught her that Heavenly Father and Jesus love her. I taught her to pray to Heavenly Father and ask him to "make a me better."

These last couple of months as she lay semi-comatose, I talked to her. I told her it was okay if she had to leave me, that I wanted her to be with me, but if she had to go, I would be okay. And I am. Heavenly Father has made her better, he has given her the greatest gift of all, eternal life in the Celestial Kingdom. She has earned it, she deserves it. And we must all remember that she is His Ashleigh too, she was His Ashleigh first.

I could talk about Ashleigh all day, please let me. When you see me, don't be afraid to approach me. If I want to talk about her sometime, please just listen for a few moments. I want to share her with you. You all have seen how special she is.

Families please love each other. It is Heavenly Father's plan that we be in family groups, that is so important. On Tuesday night when Mike and I and the boys were alone together for the first time that day, we went into Ashleigh's bedroom. I pointed to her beautiful dresses hanging in the closet, to her toys, to all the beautiful things I have collected for her. I said, "boys, Ashleigh didn't take any of these things with her. These things are just objects, they are not important."

Yes, brothers and sisters we do enjoy our things, and some of them are important to us, but not if we put them ahead of our Heavenly Father, ahead of doing those things that we should be doing to ensure our place in the Celestial Kingdom. In closing, I would like to share a poem written for me by someone dear to me and to Ashleigh.

Answer to Prayer
by Terri Johnson

"Dear Father, please send me the gift I desire,"
Her plea from God's temple was heard.
An earnest petition from a daughter of faith
humbly taken before the Lord.

"My daughter," He answered, I've heard your prayer.
And your righteous desire will be.
I'm sending to you the most precious of gifts,
A daughter for eternity."

The grateful young mother held tight in her arms
a bundle more priceless than gold.
"Dear Father, I thank thee for answer to prayer.
I thank thee for this daughter to hold."

Then, another prayer from the temple was heard.
This one came with faith greater still.
"Dear Father, I place her life in thy hands,
Please help me to know thy will."

Heavy rains fell and all nature mourned,
as Father, Himself must have wept.
The gift given here could no longer remain.
She was peacefully called home while she slept.

The gift still remains that he promised to her,
for eternally she will be theirs.
And comfort He sends as He cradles the child
who taught them of answers to prayers.

I look forward to the day when my Heavenly Father puts my child back in my arms, and then I will sigh as Ashleigh did, and say, "Ohhh... what a day."

Redeemer of Israel

This is the cover of the program at Ashleigh's funeral service. I'm sorry, I don't know who the artist is who originally drew the picture, but Doug Vandegrift "adapted" it a bit for us by adding full bangs to the child's hair so that she resembled Ashleigh, and Becky Johnson did the calligraphy at the bottom. On Tuesday September 20, the anniversary of Ashleigh's funeral, I am going to post the talk that I wrote for that occasion.

Redeemer of Israel is without a doubt my favorite hymn. Nearly thirty years ago it was sung as a congregational hymn at my grandma's funeral. I remember asking my mom why that particular hymn was chosen, her answer was that it was neither too glum, nor, too overly joyful for the occasion. Since then it has been sung at my grandpa's, my nephew Christopher's and Ashleigh's funerals. I affectionately and respectfully refer to it as our families funeral song.

Whenever I walk into the chapel and see that hymn #6 is posted as one of the hymns that day (as it was two days after Ashleigh's funeral), I am always happy. Rarely is there a General Conference of the church that Redeemer of Israel isn't sung during one of the sessions. Today we sang it in relief society, and Michael heard it being sung in our 'home ward' (we attend the singles ward) while he was walking down the hall. My favorite arrangement is that of Mack Wilberg, which is performed by the Tabernacle Choir and the BYU Men's Choir. On a Sunday morning when FM100 is playing the Sounds of the Sabbath and Redeemer of Israel comes on, the volume is turned up so that the whole house can hear.

This morning I had an interesting experience. I was home alone and sleeping unusually late. I woke up and looked at the clock and thought, "I should watch the choir, after all, they know what an important weekend this is in my life (silly me), maybe they are singing Redeemer of Israel today." First of all, I really don't ever make the time to watch the choir on Sunday morning, Mike did faithfully each week, but now he's in meetings every Sunday morning and so he can't. So why was my first waking thought that I should watch the choir? I turned on the TV to channel 2 (see my mistake?) it took me a couple of minutes to realize my error and I quickly turned to channel 5 where the choir and orchestra were in the middle of... Redeemer of Israel (had I gone to channel 5 in the first place, I would probably have caught the song at the very beginning).

This is not the first time I have seen the Lord's tender mercies directed to me, through music. I joked about the choir knowing what an important weekend this is to me, but... He knew, and He was letting me know that He knew. And that is something... that I know.