Last week, I added another lesson to my repertoire of Life Lessons I Wish I Didn't Have to Learn the Hard Way. I won't beat around the bush- I have gestational diabetes. I can't say I am surprised, as diabetes runs strongly in my genes.....that, and I have been stuffing my face silly. Fun's over. Time to get serious.

There are some cookies on the table calling my name, but putting myself in a position that may risk this baby's life is not an option. I'm too scared to even think of what this could mean.

Another Ian. No, no, no. I wouldn't survive.

I've been sticking to my meal plans very well. I lost three pounds in four days, which is a good start on the ton of weight I have to lose after this baby is done baking. 

I feel privileged in so many ways. I can't believe God granted me the opportunity to grow another one of His mysteriously complex human beings inside me. What an honor.

I love feeling him move inside me. It brings back sweet memories of carrying my other boys. Most of those memories bring smiles to my face. Others bring tears. It is always clear how truly blessed I am, though.

I watched Rabbit Hole on Netflix a few nights ago. I knew what it was about before I started it and I knew I'd cry (more like sob), but I think I needed that, so I watched it anyway. It was comforting to see people fall apart the way I do almost every day. It made me feel a bit more normal to see people grieving in their own way. Believe it or not, it was nice to see that gut-wrenching pain that creeps up on you during the most inconvenient moments, strike someone besides me. Although scripted, it was healing to see these characters cry for their children the same way I do. Whether it was a four year old boy who ran into the street chasing after his dog or a thirty year old heroine addict who couldn't break the habit, they both had mothers who loved them and wanted nothing more than to have their babies back.

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I was hoping to write a bit more tonight, but I can feel my blood-sugar getting low and cookies are not an option. 

I hope you all had a beautiful weekend. 

XOXO

Selective Amnesia

Disclaimer: I apologize if this post makes no sense. I wrote and wrote and wrote without stopping or looking back.

Last night I had a dream that I was breastfeeding a baby boy. I'm not sure if it was Ian or the baby growing inside me now. Either way, it was beautiful and I was reminded of how much I was looking forward to breastfeeding Ian. Any mother who has breastfed can tell you what an incredible bonding experience it is. I wanted that for us.
I'm trying very hard to be at peace. Some days it takes more effort than others. Today is one of those days. I can't stop thinking about him and my heart throbs with love and pain all at once. Every day, I remember something that my brain had managed to block from my memory in an effort to keep me functioning as normally as possible.
When I stepped into a hot shower after a long, busy day a few weeks ago, I remembered the events of that morning, one bye one. I remembered how I got up really early with a dull back ache and how I stepped into a hot shower attempting to relieve the pain a bit and trying to make baby move. I remember poking my belly and whispering "come on, baby, kick me, move, do something". I remembered knowing in the back of my mind that he was gone, yet desperately trying to hang on to hope.
That could never happen to me, I thought. Never. Not me. That kind of thing only happens to others.
It's impossible to think of that day without shedding a few tears.

I also remembered how a few days before he was born, I was folding his clothes and making space for them in the closet when I had this strange feeling come over me. It was telling me that I was never going to use these clothes, not for Ian. I tried to convince myself that I was being paranoid as I often tend to be about any of my children. It was a powerful feeling, scary and sad, but I ignored it. That same night, I had this sudden urge to google "stillbirth stories". I thought for sure my hormones were going crazy and I was simply looking for a way to have a good cry. I read a few stories, sobbed like a crazy, pregnant lady and went to bed. All these signs God was sending me, yet I chose to cling to faith.

The most painful memories, that just recently decided to slap me in the face as well, are the ones of the few days after his birth. That baby-less car ride home, those cold March days without a warm baby to snuggle with, the sudden bursts of tears at the grocery store or any public place at the sight of any mother holding their infant child, my mom literally lifting me off my bedroom floor every time the pain became too much to bear alone....those memories torture me like no others. I don't know if I'll ever make peace with any of those.

The list goes on and on. I don't know if my brain has suddenly decided to torture me with all of these fresh memories or if it has simply decided that I'm ready to cope with them without losing my mind. I've been crying a lot. A lot. There are so many thoughts and emotions going through me all at once. I feel like I have so much to say, yet I'm speechless at the same time.

I feel like the world has moved on without me. Everyone's lives go on and I'm stuck on that day. I hate waking up to beautiful, sunny days and feeling so ugly and dark inside. I hate having to answer questions from two very curious little boys who wonder if this baby will die too. I hate knowing that I will spend an entire lifetime wondering about a little boy who never took a single breath outside of my womb.

It feels like yesterday, but on the 23rd it will be eight long months since I last felt his soft, little body nestled in my arms. Eight months since his short life inside me changed who I am forever. Eight months of warm, salty tears running down my cheeks. Eight months of wondering what he would look like by now. Eight months of trying to make sense of a senseless tragedy. Eight months of grueling heartache. Almost the same amount of time I spent dreaming of holding him, has now gone by with me looking for ways to live without him.

And now, the only things left for me to do is to be grateful. Hard to believe, but I have found ways to be grateful. I feel so blessed and lucky to be the only one who felt him while he was alive. I am the only one who knew his every kick and hiccup. His entire life took place inside me. He went from my womb, straight into the arms of our Heavenly Father. Of all the mommas in the world, He chose me. Me. I carried an angel inside me. And one day, when it is my turn to go, he will be there, waiting for me. I hope it isn't any time soon, but I look forward to it, the same way I was looking forward to breastfeeding him.

There are no words to describe how much I miss you, little boy. I fight through the pain of not having you (physically) with me. Every. Single. Day. But I know your spirit is near. I smell you often. I feel you with me. I love you, cherub. I know some day we will be together again.

Today, Pain Took Over

I don't even know how to start this post. This unspeakable pain is unpredictable.  I'm so heart-broken, angry, confused, sad...so many feelings all at once. I don't know how I manage to get through most days, because today I cried all day long and that felt more "normal" than smiling. The sadness felt like "home sweet home". I needed to cry so badly. I needed to go back and allow myself to feel the raw emotions of that day.
Today was hard, to say the least. Today, I threw all the wisdom and strength I have gained during the past seven and a half months out the window and I allowed myself to scream and pout and kick. I let myself go back to that very moment when my own body betrayed me and I became a walking, living, breathing grave to my unborn child's tiny body.
I wish people would stop telling me how strong I am. I'm not strong! I'm the weakest I've ever been. Some days I have to fight through tears and sorrow just to make breakfast for my little boys. Other days I want to close my eyes and disappear, so that I don't have to explain to anyone why I can't stop crying.
This stabbing, sinking, unbearable pain is so deep, it takes my breath away at times. It makes me question everything I thought I knew for sure, like His presence in my life and my will to keep on going. I question it all, because I miss him so much and I just can't imagine getting through an entire lifetime without him.
It's not fair, it's just not fair. I want to fall on the floor and drown in a pool of my own tears. I'm broken. So broken.
Ian, baby, I need you so much. Come visit me today, please. I need to feel you close.
I don't know what to do with myself. I just want my baby.
Today the pain took over. Tomorrow, who knows?
I'll be OK, I know I will. I'm holding on tight to the three little people who need me here on earth. Tomorrow I will wake up with a swollen face and a wounded soul, and I will make breakfast for the two bravest, most sweetest little boys I know. They need their momma.
I love you, Ian. Fly high, angel boy.

Boys

I always knew I'd be a mom. Always. I'm not going to lie, it's been a lot harder than I ever thought, but it has also been the most rewarding thing I've done in my 27 years of life. I grew up with two brothers and my mom is the only female out of six. Still, I never could have imagined that I'd have four boys. Four!

I always imagined dolls and little, pink toys laying around my home and combing long curls and applying lip gloss to tiny women eager to be all grown up. It never crossed my mind that I'd be helping little boys put transformers together or planning secret missions accross dangerous territory with plastic guns and RPGs at hand.

I believe it's human nature to want what you don't have. For yourself as well as others. When you see a mom with all girls, your first instinct is to ask if she wants a boy and the same thing for moms of boys. I'd be lying if I said I've never had that same thought, but life and circumstances have a way of teaching you to mind your own business.

Not long ago, after Ian passed away, I had someone say "well at least it was just another boy and not a girl". I suppose it was a sorry attempt to be comforting, and I'm sure this person has never had to say goodbye to their baby's little body and watch a nurse put a blanket over his sweet little face while wheeling him out of your hospital room for the last time. And I hope with all of my heart that this person never has to go home with a memory box of their child's footprints and a lock of his thin, brown hair. As insensitive as that comment was, I don't wish this pain on anyone. And just for the record, no my pain wouldn't have been greater had I lost a little girl and no, my pain wasn't any less because I already had two boys at home waiting for their baby brother.

I can't tell you how my heart melts when one of my boys hugs me and says "I love you, mommy" or how happy it makes me to hear them making zombie/ war/ monster/ explosion noises or how I admire their love for one another, even after they get done trying to strangle eachother.

I love watching them play super heros and I can't think of a better way to spend my Friday night than eating popcorn and watching He-Man. I've also developed a unique love for Transformers and Hot Wheels. And bathing with Bubble Gum scented Spider Man body wash makes me feel a little closer to heaven.

Words could never express how much I adore my little boys. I love knowing that they'll always have each other. I hope that they grow to be wonderful, sweet, productive men and amazing fathers.

And my Ian, oh my Ian, my heart beats a little faster whenever I think about him. My third boy. My sweet baby. My angel. With each passing day, I know I'm a little closer to seeing him again. An overwhelming amount of love and pain take over for a few minutes several times a day. Salty tears fill the crevice between my smiling lips while my mind is flooded with all the memories of that day and suddenly I'm there all over again. I can smell him and feel his skin against mine. I love you, cherub.

And now, another boy on the way. And I have boxes full of clothes in all shades of blue. Clothes that were for Ian. Clothes that will bring sorrow and sweetness all at once, when I see this tiny new being fill them. And my boys will always know that they have a brother in heaven. They will always know that they are one of four.

I'm sure having little girls would be a blast and perhaps some day I'll be blessed with one. Right now though, these four boys have my heart. All of it. Each one holding a special place.

I'm just grateful that of all the mommas in the world, God chose me to love and protect them.

And for the record, it's been a priviledge.

It's a Boy!

A sweet baby boy!

Milestones

August 27th was my boys' first day of school. Julian started first grade and Tyler started Kindergarten. I didn't go to school that day, because I really wanted to share that moment with them. Julian is usually my brave boy. Shy but confident. Boy, was I surprised when he started to cry minutes before I walked him to his class. I held him close and told him everything would be well. He stopped crying but I could still sense his anxiety. That is, until we got to his classroom and he saw his best friend from Kinder. After that, he waved goodbye and smiled like the brave, confident boy I know he is.

Next, was my Ty-Ty. I had been preparing for several weeks of tears and anxiety. I was convinced my boy would be that kid. The one who cries and screams and kicks as I walk away every day for two weeks. As a mom, I know my kids like the back of my hand. Or at least I thought I did..... I walked him to his classroom with him holding tightly onto my hand and even hiding a bit behind me. That is, until he saw legos. I had rehearsed speeches and prepared mentally for the tantrums and the fits, but in 2.2 seconds I had been replaced by a bucket of legos. The security he got from my sweaty hand had been replaced by colorful little building blocks....who knew? I waved goodbye and told him I love him, but he was too busy making colorful towers. I did manage to get his attention long enough to take a picture.

I left with a happy heart knowing that my boys were ready to be on their own. It wasn't long before it hit me though. I sat in the car and cried for several minutes, after I realized that these were the very same milestones I'd never share with Ian. The moments a momma lives for, the ones we engrave in our hearts forever, would be the same ones I'd never have with my little boy. I sobbed in the parking lot and told myself how unfair it was. After a few minutes, I was able to pull myself together and go about my day. I never would have imagined the day would end with my in the E.R. with a broken foot after tripping and hitting the floor pretty hard. I'm ok. It's been two weeks and my foot has finally stopped throbbing. Perhaps they can try to cast it again after today, since they had to cut the cast off the first time due to severe swelling. Don't worry. Baby is fine. My arms took most of the fall, plus I'm well padded. Fluffy. Cushion-y. You know?

I have a doctor's appointment with my OB in a few hours. I have to leave extra early since crutching your way around a three story building isn't exactly easy when you are pregnant and broken. I'll figure it out though. I've been through worse....

Anyway, I want to thank everyone who has been touched by my the birth of my little angel. You have no idea what it means to me to have so many people share my pain and acknowledge his brief life. I am grateful and so proud to be able to share him with so many. I want everyone to know he was here and that he is part of our family. My heart goes out to those who shared their own experiences of loss and sadness. Please know you are not alone.

I hope you're all having a nice hump day.

New Life

I am nearly twenty weeks pregnant.

I'm not sure I am ready to announce it to the world, but you can only hide a pregnancy for so long. The few people who know have been incredibly supportive. However, every woman who's ever been pregnant can tell you that it is nearly impossible to avoid those well-meaning rude remarks about the new life growing inside of you. I've already had a few "I hope it's a girl this time"....as if, after what I've been through, I really care about the gender more than the safety and well-being of the tiny human baking in my womb. The truth is my life would have been more than perfect with a house full of boys.
And, of course, I could not get half-way through this pregnancy without the "you're having a new baby now, it's time to move on", because it's common knowledge that one baby replaces another, right? ....I might as well make it clear now, NOTHING and NOBODY will EVER fill this empty space in my heart. I still cry for him every day and my heart aches like it did the day I lost him. If anything, I'd say time has made the pain worse, because every day something reminds me that I should be holding a baby boy and my heart breaks a little more.
But, by far, the most unfortunate choice of words were "make sure you take care of this one" by a girl at my doctor's office. That one stung. She made me feel like I had somehow caused Ian's death.

I don't hold these things against anyone. I have learned a lot over the past few months, like that reading between the lines is a waste of time and that it's possible for someone to care about you and still say something unmeaningly hurtful while you're wounded and vulnerable. The biggest lesson though, has been the power of love. Like when emotion takes over and you don't know what to say, it's ok to not say anything. A simple heartfelt I'm Sorry along with a hug full of love and empathy is all you need. No need for cliche quotes or comparing the situation to a possible worst scenario.

I'd be lying if I said I am not a nervous wreck. And I'd really be lying if I said I'm not still grieving. And while the sadness and the anxiety manage to take over sometimes, most of the time I can be happy and thankful that there is a brand new human being growing inside me. I know our angel in heaven is watching over us every step of the way.