Memorial Service for Stella
January 1, 2011


In loving memory of Stella Grace Carland
December 23, 2010, 5:43 pm - 7:30 pm



~
Stella was born too early, and died too young, but will forever be loved. ~

Link to Obituary


Carland Foundation for Learning Memorial Scholarship




Cat Matlock opens the ceremony and performs the song “Sanctuary”



Dedication, written and read by JoAnn Carland

To Stella Grace

Conceived in Love and Planned with Wisdom;
Anticipated with excitement; Bringing Joy to all who knew;
Yet Heaven wanted to reclaim its Star and we lost you much too soon.

Your Mom was brave beyond belief and your Dad was steadfast in his Love;
Wanting to hold you, she forsook her comfort and waited for your birth.

Tho’ we had you for a few hours only, You were Perfect.
Your birth was much anticipated even tho’ expectations were mixed.

Yet your Mom was your strength and She gave you Life;
Assisted by your Loving Dad.

You lived for your brief moment in time, cradled in the arms of your Mom and Dad;
And you were surrounded by Love.

We grieve for our Loss, but you know that you were loved
and we know that you gave us one bright and shining moment.
We will remember you forever.



Stella’s Story, written and read by Trey Carland

On August 7th, the day before our 12 year anniversary, Shelby gave me the best present I’ve ever had.  It was a pink plus sign on a pregnancy test she had taken that morning before I woke.  I was delighted, but still a bit skeptical.  After a second test confirmed it, we were both even more excited.

But it didn’t seem really real until we had our first ultrasound where we got to see Little Boo (our nick name for the baby) dancing around to an imaginary beat.  We also got to hear the baby’s heart beat for the first time.  It was real.  A tiny little life had started and was celebrating in Shelby’s belly.

We waited a while before telling our parents, but when we did their excitement brought tears to our eyes.  They had all but given up on having grandchildren, and this came as a beautiful surprise for them as well.  Once we decided to tell the world, I wrote the following passage to convey my excitement.

The Miracle of Life ( November 11, 2010)

I am pleased to announce to the world that my wife Shelby and I are expecting.  By that I mean that she’s pregnant with our first child, who has an ETA of April 17, 2011.  Needless to say, this a very exciting time for both of us.  A miracle is unfolding as we speak :)

I never really had any interest in kids up until a year or two ago.  Before that, I thought all of my friends were crazy for wanting them.  I saw procreation as something that people were just programmed to do, and I didn’t feel that same software running in me.  But, as I started realizing that the secret to life’s beauty and perfection lay in the eyes of innocence, I started paying more attention to children, especially infants, and how they view this world.  That was the kindling that started the flame of interest.

When you look at a wide-eyed baby staring at everything around them for the first time ever, it can give you an appreciation for the miracle of being present only to this moment, in all its glory.  They see everything without a story, without judgments.  They are born free from preconceived notions and beliefs, and completely open to what life has to offer (though that doesn’t necessarily mean they like everything it has to offer).  Infants have no fear of gaping at other people, or doing other things that adults tend to be embarrassed by, because they are ego-less beings.  Babies are like little Buddhas, staring through untainted eyes, inviting us to do the same if we are willing.

As my appreciation for infants deepened, my desire to have a baby increased as well.  It was like my biological clock had finally started ticking, and my wife and I started seriously talking about having a baby for the first time in our almost 20 year relationship.  It was finally time.

Once the magic stick appeared with a pink plus sign, we were both excited, but it didn’t seem real until our first real Doctor’s appointment, where we got to see a little dancing being on the computer screen.  Here was this tiny little organism that would one day be a human being.

That’s when I started visualizing holding our child for the first time, staring into its all knowing eyes, while I cry tears of joy at what a beautiful miracle this Life is.  How magical it is to be able to create life.  It’s something I always took for granted until it dawned on me how magnificent it really is.  Life has been giving birth to Life since the beginning of time, and I never really appreciated it until now.  I now understand why they refer to babies as little Bundles of Joy, because that’s exactly what they are.  I tear up just thinking about seeing him or her smiling for the first time :)

It may seem to go without saying, but everyone you see around you was a tiny little Bundle of Joy at one point (technically we all started as tadpoles, but that’s neither here nor there).  Imagine that!  Every person that you meet is still that same innocent baby all dressed up in a mask.  We start weaving our identity masks at young ages, and have them well crafted by adulthood, but nothing underneath has really changed since the day we were born.  If you really take a close look at a stranger or a loved one, you can see the child in them, hiding under that mask.  When you set aside your own mask, and look at the world through the eyes of the child you once were (and still are), you can see the innocence of others reflected back at you.  It’s almost as if our mask creates theirs.

I’m ready for little baby Boo to show me the way to unmasked Love, though it’s hard to imagine not breaking down into tears of joy each time I look into those eyes.  As you can probably tell, I am very excited about being a father (it still sounds kinda weird to say that), and I’m glad we waited until we were older to have a child because I needed to feel this sense of gratitude in order to be the best possible parent.  

I could write for hours on this subject, but let me just end by saying, “Here’s to the miracle we call Life and all the Love it has to bring.”  <3


Being Dealt a Blow (November 20, 2010)

My wife and I found out we were pregnant not long ago, and were very excited.  However, we just learned through a combination of blood tests and ultrasound, that the baby (who we have been calling Boo) has a hole in her heart, and is about a week behind in growth, and likely has Down syndrome.  Needless to say, this has been a devastating development, which has left us both in an emotional state unlike those we have encountered before.

If it were just that the baby had Down syndrome, we could deal more easily with that news.  We have mourned the child’s loss of a “normal” life to a certain extent (and will likely continue to periodically), but we have heard that Downs babies are among the happiest little bundles of joy on the planet, despite all of their health issues.  The biggest concern we have now is the heart surgeries that the baby will undoubtedly have to go through within the first few months of life (and possibly for years to come).  

Though we had never considered it before, the thought of terminating the pregnancy came up simply to save Boo from having to go through all of that.  The idea of having to make that decision was too heart wrenching, so we quickly took that off the table.  But, the Universe is the ultimate decision maker.  We will be undergoing several more ultrasounds to track the baby’s growth, and it’s entirely possible that she won’t make it into this world, or that she’ll make it and have a very short life span.  There’s really no telling at this point.

Obviously, worry and stress over this situation is fruitless and only leads to more pain and suffering, but it’s also perfectly natural.  I’m trying to look at this for the blessing it is, because I know deep down that life is nothing but a series of blessings.  But that’s hard to do because my wife is taking the news so hard.  We’re going through stages of grief and acceptance at different rates, and one of my fears is that this feeling of heaviness and negativity will pervade the rest of the pregnancy

Right now what I’m going through is the fear of getting too attached to little Boo.  Before learning about the health problems she faced, I was very excited about raising a child together, and feeling a deepening bond with the baby-to-be.  Now, I’m not even sure this baby will be.  As the doctor has said, we just have to take this one day at a time, which is sound advice.  Remaining present leaves less room for worry and more room for faith.  

I am putting my trust in the Universe and trying to accept what is, but I’m still sensing fear from attachment from time to time.  My wish is that I can enjoy this experience to its fullest, whatever may come.  Deep down I know that Boo needs my Love now more than ever.


A Broken Heart (November 21, 2010)

One of the most beautiful sites I’ve seen in my entire life was the smile on my wife’s face as she watched our little girl dance around on the computer screen during an ultrasound.  That smile alone was enough to melt my heart and bring tears to my eyes.  She was smiling even though we knew little Boo was not doing well, and I wanted more than anything for her to have this child so I could see her smile like this on a daily basis.

Over the last few months, both of our eyes have been filled with tears of joy and tears of sorrow on a number of occasions.  However, I’ve come to notice that there are really only tears of Love.  Joy and sorrow are forms of Love experienced in different ways.  A quote that helped me remember this is by Pamela Wilson, “Sorrow comes to show us the depth of our love.”

We tend to think of having a broken heart as a bad thing, but it is synonymous with having an open heart.  Our baby’s heart has an opening between her chambers.  Surgery would serve to subdivide those chambers to make it function properly.  But in the meantime, this baby’s heart is wide open.  Broken open to let in all the Love, and let it all flow back out again without resistance.

Since we are doing all we can do medically, we are faced with accepting that we don’t have the power to control our futures.  Herein lies the greatest lesson in surrender I’ve encountered.  It’s easy to just say, “It wasn’t meant to be,” but that can mask the love of saying, “Yes!  It was meant to be!  It was meant to be just like this!”  As painful as this may be.


Stella’s Life (December 30, 2010)

Shelby was admitted to the hospital on December 20th after she started feeling chest, back and arm pains.  Since she was 23 weeks pregnant, we called the OB on call who  confirmed that we needed to come to the hospital for some testing.  She was diagnosed with HELLP syndrome, where the blood platelet count drops and liver enzymes rise to dangerous levels.  Two different OB/GYNs we had seen in the past confirmed that they needed to “take” the baby in order to save Mom.  They also told us that our little girl was too small to survive outside of the womb.  By now she was about 3 weeks behind where she should have been size wise and too small to be “viable.”

We found out earlier in the pregnancy that she had a congenital heart defect, which was determined to be very operable with good chances of survival.  We had also been told that she would most likely have Down syndrome.  Though all of that news was absolutely devastating at the time, we took things one day at a time, and gradually came to grips with the prognosis.  Despite all of our worries about the future of our child, we were looking forward to welcoming her into this world with love and kisses.

On December 23rd at 5:43 p.m., Shelby give birth to our baby girl, Stella Grace.  But this didn’t happen on its own.  It took several days and different methods of induction to finally bring about contractions.  Stella just didn’t want to come, which made things that much more painful.  The pain of dragging out the inevitable took its toll emotionally and physically.  Shelby was subject to constant blood draws, blood pressure checks, and temperature monitoring.  Her arms were black and blue from all of the needle sticks and IV ports.  Since Shelby’s health was stable, all we could do was wait.

When the time finally came, Stella came quick.  The doctor had just finished an exam, indicating that Shelby had finally dilated to 3 centimeters (they thought she needed to be at 5).  The doctor and the nurse were on their way out when Shelby cried out that something was wrong.  They seemed to think she was just having another contraction until her water broke and a little pair of legs poked out.  As I stood there watching in a state of shock, the nurse and I helped her lay back.  I held one of Shelby’s legs and the nurse the other, while the doctor started assisting in the birth, and Shelby started pushing.

As I watched, I remained calm and kept reassuring Shelby that she was doing great and that everything was going just fine.  In reality, I was scared of what was about to happen, but I knew deep down that it was going to be okay.  I tried to convey that trust to Shelby by smiling as she kept pushing.  

It was a breach birth in which the feet and body came out first, and the umbilical cord was wrapped around Stella’s neck making her head a bit harder to come free.  After some delicate coaxing, the doctor finally got the baby out.  The doctor cut the cord, wrapped up the baby and put her in Shelby’s arms.  I knew our little girl was either already dead, or only had a short time to live, so we just started caressing her and talking to her.

The nurse listened with her stethoscope and told us that there was a heartbeat.  We just stroked her, and cried, and smiled at each other as little Stella laid on Shelby’s heart.  She was tiny, only 9.8 ounces, but fully formed.  She gasped for air a couple of times, which just broke our hearts more.  We knew her lungs were not formed enough to actually breath, which is why they told us there was no chance of survival.  She moved her tiny little arms, once to grab Shelby’s finger, and another time to put her own thumb in her mouth.  She was too precious.

Our parents were all in the room and got to touch and talk to Stella as she laid on Shelby to keep warm.  Another check of the heart by the nurse indicated the heartbeat was very faint.  We cried and smiled and stroked her little head some more as the minutes ticked by.  We took several pictures to capture the moment as best we could.  Finally, at around 7:30 pm, she was pronounced dead.

At that point we requested that they do the same thing they do with living infants, so they took her weight, measurements, and footprints.  They dressed her in a dress we chose from their selection and took some more pictures.  We finally decided enough was enough and they took her away.  I have to say that the nursing staff was so wonderful.  It made a very difficult situation much easier.  These women put the “care” back in “Healthcare” and I admire their level of compassion.

It was an emotionally and physically exhausting experience for us all, but especially Shelby.  She did so great.  She was such a wonderful mother even though she had such a short time.  She made sure Stella stayed warm as best she could, and made sure she felt loved as long as she could.  I only wish it could have been longer.

Shelby was finally released from the hospital on Christmas morning.  Leaving the maternity ward empty handed on Christmas was a tough thing to do to say the least.  The walls were covered with beautiful little babies being held by adoring parents.  It was as beautiful site as it was painful.  

So now we’re learning to deal with the pain of a love lost.  Shelby’s pain is understandably greater since she was the vessel for this life.  She loved being pregnant, feeling the tiny movements and kicks that I could never really feel.  I do my best to comfort her and love her, though I can only imagine how deeply her heart aches to have Stella Grace back in her arms.

Love was brought to life that day, if for no other reason, to show us that Love is eternal.





Ode to Stella Grace
written and read by Jim Carland

On wings of love, you swooped and dove, My Darling Dear;
they brushed our lips, they kissed our eyes, and stilled our sighs.

Called you Stella, your Mother did, My Darling Dear;
for stars did shine, from Heaven’s Gate, to still our sighs.

A dream you were, sheer gossamer, My Darling Dear;
and tears of love, and tears of joy, did still our sighs.

And called you Grace, your Mother did, My Darling Dear;
and gift you were, so great a gift, you stilled our sighs.

So fierce, so proud, your Mother was, My Darling Dear;
and strong, so strong, your Father was, it stilled our sighs.

So loved you were, so deep and full, My Darling Dear;
as sip you did, of air and love, and stilled our sighs.

So soon you did, unfurl those wings, My Darling Dear;
to fly again, to Heaven’s Gate, be still our sighs.

But Mother’s Love, and Father’s Faith, My Darling Dear;
did give us time, to love you more, and stilled our sighs.

While Angels wait, to fly you home, My Darling Dear;
we drink, we drink, of love so sweet, it stills our sighs.

And now you’re gone, on wings of love, My Darling Dear;
bereft we are, without you here, to still our sighs.

But mem’ry serves, and love remains, My Darling Dear;
and strength we draw, from pools of love, to still our sighs.

So small you were, but huge your heart, My Darling Dear;
and loved you were, and loved you are, so still your sighs.

Now time has fled, but love remains, My Darling Dear;
we love you still, we always will, be still our sighs.

On wings of love, you swoop and dive, My Darling Dear;
with Angels fair, in Heaven’s air, it stills our sighs.





Stella
by Norn Cutson









A quote from Gina Lake
read by Trey Carland

“Recognize that the love you feel for Stella Grace resides within you and originates within you. She evoked this depth of love from you, and that is her gift to you. This love belongs to you and cannot be taken away from you, and it will always be yours to give whether it is to her or some other child or to other people. She has shown you how deeply you can love, and that is a treasure. It may be her sole purpose in this life. That remains to be seen, but it is a worthy one.

It was not possible to avoid this challenge; it was given to you both, for whatever reason. It isn't for you to know why necessarily. You have to trust that it is serving a spiritual purpose. It is serving your soul's growth. All challenges hold a gift. Usually that gift is the spiritual strength and compassion that are developed as one learns to navigate such a devastating situation. The power you have is to either find the place within you that can be at peace and in love in even this situation or give way to bitterness, anger, resentment, and despair. This is the choice we are all faced with in any challenge. If anyone has a right to dark feelings, you do, but they serve no one and only keep you from your own beautiful Heart. What everyone needs now is to be in touch with the Heart.”




Cat Matlock closes the ceremony and performs the song “Maha Mrityunjaya”




Parting Goodbye, by Trey Carland

I wanted to prepare a last little poem to end with, but ran out of time.  However, I just wanted to say thank you.  Thank you for sharing this moment with us.  Thank you for sharing this Love with us.  Thank you for sharing this Life with us.  This is pure beauty.  Look around at all of this beauty, all this Love.  We’re surrounded by it all the time and we just don’t notice it.  Thank you Stella Grace for reminding us of this Love, and showing us that we are loved.

We’re here for such a short time, and we only have this one Life (maybe two, who knows).  Dare I say, don’t waste it.  Life is so precious, so beautiful.  Live it to its fullest.  Love your Life while you have it.  This is your invitation from Stella.





Unable are the Loved to die

For Love is Immortality,
Nay, it is Deity --

Unable they that love -- to die
For Love reforms Vitality
Into Divinity.

by Emily Dickinson