Dear Ryan,
Today is so beautiful outside. For February 29 it's nearly 70 degress outside, your momma has her legs exposed for the first time in months, and the sun just keeps shining. I couldn't be happier to see such nice weather. I'm not one for cold weather anyway, but especially not today.
You've been on my mind so much lately, and were the first thing I thought of when I woke up this morning.
Today was your due date.
It would have been a beautiful day to bring you into the world, too. It makes me sad that neither of us will ever experience that.
I remember when I first found out I was pregnant with you and was told that you would be due on February 29. At first I thought it was so neat that you would be a leap year baby, but then I wondered how you would feel about it... only having a "true" birthday every few years. It was so petty of a thought... as long as you were here safe and sound it doesn't matter what day you came on.
I found the little socks that I bought after I found out you were coming. I had a feeling you were a boy, and now that your sister is due to come in June I don't know what to do with them. They sit on the corner of the dresser. I think I'll keep them there.
I'm sorry I couldn't hold you for the first time today. I love and miss you so much.
All my heart,
Momma
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Monday, February 27, 2012
the dreaded question
Pregnancy, for some reason, in ways becomes an invite to a lot of unwanted questions about your personal life. At work, I ignore these people or fire back with some snide remark as some of these questions are completely inappropriate and quite frankly, noone's business. But then there's the most common question.... the one I used to ask others and not think twice.... and it's a question that is asked out of complete curiousity; noone meaning you any harm.
How many children do you have?
For most people, they can answer this question in a totally natural way. Not me. Not anymore. Do I lie or do I tell the truth? I almost immediately go into panic mode, with my brain going a million miles a minute thinking how thing conversation could take so many different turns and which one I was prepared for at that specific moment.
I think back to "old me"... I would happily say that I had one son, named Colin, and bring out my phone to show off pictures of my incredibly handsome baby boy.
All of that has changed in the past year. The truth now is that I have two sons, and two daughters. The response I would expect is "oh my!" or "You're awfully young to have 4 children already" or for someone to ask me for pictures. I could easily bring forth a picture of Colin.... I have about 50 on my phone alone. I can show them Reagan's ultrasound, or they can see my visible protruding bump. I don't have pictures of Gabby or Ryan. I never will.
It always poses internal complications when someone asks how many children I have... The easy answer for conversational reasons is to say one with one on the way... and then my heart breaks. Like I've denied Gabby and Ryan's existence... like they didn't deserve to be acknowledged. Or I can come back with the honest and complicated answer. The truth. I have 4. One here, one on the way, and two in heaven. Which ususally is followed by uncomfortable silence for the person who asked. But at least my heart feels free.
How many children do you have?
For most people, they can answer this question in a totally natural way. Not me. Not anymore. Do I lie or do I tell the truth? I almost immediately go into panic mode, with my brain going a million miles a minute thinking how thing conversation could take so many different turns and which one I was prepared for at that specific moment.
I think back to "old me"... I would happily say that I had one son, named Colin, and bring out my phone to show off pictures of my incredibly handsome baby boy.
All of that has changed in the past year. The truth now is that I have two sons, and two daughters. The response I would expect is "oh my!" or "You're awfully young to have 4 children already" or for someone to ask me for pictures. I could easily bring forth a picture of Colin.... I have about 50 on my phone alone. I can show them Reagan's ultrasound, or they can see my visible protruding bump. I don't have pictures of Gabby or Ryan. I never will.
It always poses internal complications when someone asks how many children I have... The easy answer for conversational reasons is to say one with one on the way... and then my heart breaks. Like I've denied Gabby and Ryan's existence... like they didn't deserve to be acknowledged. Or I can come back with the honest and complicated answer. The truth. I have 4. One here, one on the way, and two in heaven. Which ususally is followed by uncomfortable silence for the person who asked. But at least my heart feels free.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Dear Reagan
Hey baby girl. : ) You're quite the mover and shaker today... it may sound a bit muffled in there but your brother and I like to read "Mr. Seahorse" to you at night.... the book by Eric Carle about daddy fish taking care of their babies.
We saw you yesterday at the doctors office and it made for such an awesome Valentine's day. I could stare at you forever. You are just beautiful.
Daddy felt you kick for the first time the other night... keep up those big kicks little girlfriend!
I worry often if you can sense sadness inside of me, and I just want you to know that I'm not sad about you AT ALL. Sometimes I get sad because I miss your brother and sister and because I worry about losing you. I can't bear it. I'm doing my best to be strong, and I need you to be strong too sweetheart. Please.
The doctor says that we're being induced on June 1st. I can't believe it.... that's only 3 1/2 months away. Stay strong my darling. We have a whole life to live together.
Love,
Momma
We saw you yesterday at the doctors office and it made for such an awesome Valentine's day. I could stare at you forever. You are just beautiful.
Daddy felt you kick for the first time the other night... keep up those big kicks little girlfriend!
I worry often if you can sense sadness inside of me, and I just want you to know that I'm not sad about you AT ALL. Sometimes I get sad because I miss your brother and sister and because I worry about losing you. I can't bear it. I'm doing my best to be strong, and I need you to be strong too sweetheart. Please.
The doctor says that we're being induced on June 1st. I can't believe it.... that's only 3 1/2 months away. Stay strong my darling. We have a whole life to live together.
Love,
Momma
Please don't....
Please don't tell me that you understand, when you have no idea. When you haven't lost a baby. Don't tell me you can understand what it is like to have to call around town to find a place to bury your child and actually have to have the words " my baby" come out of your mouth when the director asks who you are looking to bury.
Please don't tell me what it's like to see a baby on the ultrasound screen and realize there's no movement... to hear the words "I'm sorry, there's no heartbeat" ringing in your ears. That all of the hopes and dreams that you once had have gone up in flames and will never, EVER, come to fruition. That you understand jumping out of bed in the middle of the night because you thought you heard a baby crying. That you dream, or have nightmares rather, of seeing your deceased babies and chasing after them as some stranger takes them away from you.... but you never catch up.... and they are gone forever.
Please don't tell me that you know what it's like to try to cut a deal with God and ask him to take you instead so that they can have a chance... that you really, truly, come to a point of being completely okay with dying if you know that your babies will be alive.
Please don't tell me that you "know" or that you "understand" what it's like when you haven't lost a child. Be so grateful that you haven't. Be jubilantly grateful. Be so thankful that there is not a missing hole in your heart that nothing and noone can fill. Be happy that people don't avoid you or just stop talking to you all together. Be glad that people don't excuse themselves from the room or quickly change the subject when you bring up your child's name... like just hearing their name means the black plague.
Tell me that you're sorry. Tell me that you're here for me. Tell me that my feelings are "understandable". But please, I beg of you... please do not tell me that you understand when you do not. You cannot.
Please don't tell me what it's like to see a baby on the ultrasound screen and realize there's no movement... to hear the words "I'm sorry, there's no heartbeat" ringing in your ears. That all of the hopes and dreams that you once had have gone up in flames and will never, EVER, come to fruition. That you understand jumping out of bed in the middle of the night because you thought you heard a baby crying. That you dream, or have nightmares rather, of seeing your deceased babies and chasing after them as some stranger takes them away from you.... but you never catch up.... and they are gone forever.
Please don't tell me that you know what it's like to try to cut a deal with God and ask him to take you instead so that they can have a chance... that you really, truly, come to a point of being completely okay with dying if you know that your babies will be alive.
Please don't tell me that you "know" or that you "understand" what it's like when you haven't lost a child. Be so grateful that you haven't. Be jubilantly grateful. Be so thankful that there is not a missing hole in your heart that nothing and noone can fill. Be happy that people don't avoid you or just stop talking to you all together. Be glad that people don't excuse themselves from the room or quickly change the subject when you bring up your child's name... like just hearing their name means the black plague.
Tell me that you're sorry. Tell me that you're here for me. Tell me that my feelings are "understandable". But please, I beg of you... please do not tell me that you understand when you do not. You cannot.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
20 weeks
Not too long ago, Bob and Michelle Duggar went in for their anatomy scan, only to find their baby girl no longer had a beating heart. They planned a beautiful memorial service to honor their little one, who they named Jubilee Shalom, and at that service had very tasteful pictures of her. For some reason, these pictures spread like wild fire and with them came much criticism. It was very difficult for me to see and hear such terrible things said about this family as they suffered such a great loss. In many ways blaming the Duggars for what had happened, and saying that the child was better off in the grave than with them, completely infuriated me. The focus lost all priority: instead of being on an innocent life that was taken too soon, it became a personal bashing fest of the entire Duggar family. Regardless of how someone feels about the way they choose to live their lives, or how many children they decide to create, why couldn't a simple sentiment of "this family is grieving the death of their child" take the forefront?
Saying that a picture of Jubilee's perfect tiny feet is "morbid" and "disgusting" literally makes me ill. I can promise you one thing: if I would have been in their position I would have done the exact same thing. Their home will never be filled with baby pictures of Jubilee, or her first birthday, or her first day of school, or her prom, or her wedding. This is the only picture they have to remember her by. Shame on people for being so critical, especially considering they have never been in this position. Like I've said many times, if you don't like it, then don't look at it. Pretty simple.
Mark and I were watching TV last night after Colin had gone to bed and had the TLC channel on. During the commercial break a season preview of the Duggars came on and it was very upsetting to me for a multitude of reasons. One, they found out Jubilee had passed at their ultrasound, which Mark and I just had ours 5 days ago. Two, seeing her and Bob crying reminded me all over again of laying in the emergency room with my husband and begging and pleading with God to wake me up from my nightmare. I don't expect people to understand who haven't had to experience something like this, but I would expect a little humanity and respect.
Tomorrow is also my fellow BLM friend's daughter's 3rd birthday in heaven. Sydney was born at 20 weeks and lived for two hours. Sydney's mother has taken the trajedy and the pain of her death and has decided to do something with it... she is such an advocate for baby loss families and an amazing support system. Her strength in fighting for her daughter's memory is truly inspirational. So Sydney, happy happy birthday sweet baby. You are so very loved.
Saying that a picture of Jubilee's perfect tiny feet is "morbid" and "disgusting" literally makes me ill. I can promise you one thing: if I would have been in their position I would have done the exact same thing. Their home will never be filled with baby pictures of Jubilee, or her first birthday, or her first day of school, or her prom, or her wedding. This is the only picture they have to remember her by. Shame on people for being so critical, especially considering they have never been in this position. Like I've said many times, if you don't like it, then don't look at it. Pretty simple.
Mark and I were watching TV last night after Colin had gone to bed and had the TLC channel on. During the commercial break a season preview of the Duggars came on and it was very upsetting to me for a multitude of reasons. One, they found out Jubilee had passed at their ultrasound, which Mark and I just had ours 5 days ago. Two, seeing her and Bob crying reminded me all over again of laying in the emergency room with my husband and begging and pleading with God to wake me up from my nightmare. I don't expect people to understand who haven't had to experience something like this, but I would expect a little humanity and respect.
Tomorrow is also my fellow BLM friend's daughter's 3rd birthday in heaven. Sydney was born at 20 weeks and lived for two hours. Sydney's mother has taken the trajedy and the pain of her death and has decided to do something with it... she is such an advocate for baby loss families and an amazing support system. Her strength in fighting for her daughter's memory is truly inspirational. So Sydney, happy happy birthday sweet baby. You are so very loved.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
February 7, 2012
This past week has been full of mixed emotions. We had our anatomy scan at the hospital on Friday and were able to see Reagan. The tech was awesome and explained what we were seeing the entire time and even gave us a 3d view of her face! We have another picture of her perfect little feet next to each other. She's just the most beautiful little thing ever. : )
She left the room to have the doctor review everything. He came in and told us that she only has one umbilical artery (instead of two) and my heart dropped. I tried my best to stay off the of my best friend "google" search, but that didn't work out so well. Everything I read made me that much more upset. I can't get into all of it right now... it will just bring me to a bad place.
I spoke with my doctor yesterday and he was very reassuring, telling me that we'll continue to keep a close eye on everything and make sure that she is growing on schedule and there is enough amniotic fluid.
A year ago yesterday, I took a pregnancy test. It was positive. It was Gabby. I remember how elated I was and couldn't wait to get home to tell Mark and Colin. I cried the happiest tears that day.
Mark surprised me with Reagan's crib last night when I got home from work. I don't think he realized that a year ago yesterday was when we found out about Gab. I think it's a woman thing. I'm so glad he brought the crib home. It feels so good to have a crib in our house.... to start having visual reminders that we have a baby on the way and a feeling of optimism when I see it. I love seeing her room starting to come together and stand in the nursery imagining what she will look like sleeping in her lavender bedroom.
I want it to be June so badly. I want her to be here and be healthy and safe and focus on settling in to our lives with a new bundle of joy to hold, cuddle, and kiss.
Reagan will never replace Gabrielle or Ryan. I think some people think that once she gets here that we'll move on from this grief stage and forget.... like all should be well. Don't get me wrong. Reagan has already and will continue to bring so much joy, but her arrival will never make me forget about my babies.
I think about them daily. I wonder what they are doing and if they know how much I think of them. If they know how much they are loved and wanted.... if they know all of things I have in my heart that I so badly want to say to them.
She left the room to have the doctor review everything. He came in and told us that she only has one umbilical artery (instead of two) and my heart dropped. I tried my best to stay off the of my best friend "google" search, but that didn't work out so well. Everything I read made me that much more upset. I can't get into all of it right now... it will just bring me to a bad place.
I spoke with my doctor yesterday and he was very reassuring, telling me that we'll continue to keep a close eye on everything and make sure that she is growing on schedule and there is enough amniotic fluid.
A year ago yesterday, I took a pregnancy test. It was positive. It was Gabby. I remember how elated I was and couldn't wait to get home to tell Mark and Colin. I cried the happiest tears that day.
Mark surprised me with Reagan's crib last night when I got home from work. I don't think he realized that a year ago yesterday was when we found out about Gab. I think it's a woman thing. I'm so glad he brought the crib home. It feels so good to have a crib in our house.... to start having visual reminders that we have a baby on the way and a feeling of optimism when I see it. I love seeing her room starting to come together and stand in the nursery imagining what she will look like sleeping in her lavender bedroom.
I want it to be June so badly. I want her to be here and be healthy and safe and focus on settling in to our lives with a new bundle of joy to hold, cuddle, and kiss.
Reagan will never replace Gabrielle or Ryan. I think some people think that once she gets here that we'll move on from this grief stage and forget.... like all should be well. Don't get me wrong. Reagan has already and will continue to bring so much joy, but her arrival will never make me forget about my babies.
I think about them daily. I wonder what they are doing and if they know how much I think of them. If they know how much they are loved and wanted.... if they know all of things I have in my heart that I so badly want to say to them.
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