Being a Mom....

Being a mom is great. We love our kids, we love to watch them grow, learn things, and go from being babies to tiny humans. They begin to have thoughts, feelings, and opinions. We spend their early years teaching them the things they need to know and praying that the children we are raising are decent human beings. Being a mother is wonderful! You were hand chosen for this little person, specially picked to be exactly what they need! The day they are born you celebrate with much gusto, and your hearts are full of love. They smile at you for the first time, and all is right with the world. You watch them take their first step, and you are so overcome with emotion and pride that you shout it from the rooftops. “That’s my baby! He/She’s getting so big!”, and then you’re on to the next thing. You celebrate every triumph and cry with them through every tear, and it’s all sunshine and rainbows…until it isn’t. And we’ve all been there too, haven’t we? Oh, you know what I’m talking about. You woke up, had a cup of coffee that you only had to reheat one time, got everybody dressed, and nobody lost their sandal just before you were about to walk out the door. The morning was off to great start, and you say to yourself “Today is going to be a good day!” You get the kids strapped into the car, you reach into the diaper bag to pull out a sippy cup of purple for the 2 year old, and she stares at you, but doesn’t take it. You look into each other’s eyes, and there’s a moment of silence (I like to call this the eye of the storm) until all of the sudden, she screams. It’s not just any scream. It’s the high pitched sound of a child who wanted the PINK sippy cup, and YOU had the audacity to give her the purple one. And, if yours is like mine, she goes in to full on meltdown mode after just a few minutes and you begin to wonder if she’s crying about just the purple sippy cup or if maybe somehow she’s remembering and channeling every time that her little mind feels you’ve wronged her and using it in her fit of rage. When these kinds of things happen, we’re reminded of the parts of mom-ing that aren’t so great. And, if you’re like me, you wilt a little. You begin to fantasize about bedtime and that bottle of wine in the fridge, quietly calling your name. You’re not alone, because we’ve all been the victim of the toddler meltdown for one reason or the other. Some of us are fortunate enough to endure the meltdowns at home, some of us were given the pleasure of an audience at the local grocery store, and still others made the mistake of offering the wrong color cup at a restaurant having a nice family dinner. It happens. It’s so easy to feel isolated in those moments when you feel like you’ve lost control. It’s hard to keep moving forward when you feel like you’re failing at the whole mom gig entirely. It’s in those moments that we turn to other moms for some sort validation that we’re not screwing our kids up. We turn to other moms to hear their stories, to laugh with them, to cry with them, and to complain to them. Once we’re done, we set down our glasses of wine, pull up our big girl panties, and try again. Parenting is a bunch of triumphs with a fair number of missteps mixed in. They say it takes a village to raise a child, and that much is true, but we’re lucky enough to be members of a nation. A nation of mommas who are just taking it one day at a time, trying to get it right. A nation of mommas who- just like you, really do stand at the cupboard weighing the outcomes of pink and purple sippy cups, wondering whether the orange shirt or the green shirt is going to cause an “on our way to preschool” meltdown, and mentally preparing for the nightly bedtime battle. A nation of mommas who are just like us, who are different than we are, and who just want to be cared for and understood. We are part of something amazing. Something nurturing and constant, and what could be better than that?

Just babbling.

Today I am faced with my inadequacies. My tired body that doesn't work the way it should, my exhausted mind that tells me often how pitiful and useless I am. I have no patience. I listen too little and yell too much. I try to be their everything and instead I am nothing.

This is not for the ego boost you will see it for, because I know you will all say the same thing: "You're such a great mom! The kids are lucky to have you!" What else would you say? You see their smiles, you see their laughter. You see them run and play and occasionally you see them after they slip and fall. But you only see what I show you. You only see the parts of our lives that I allow for.

You don't see the days when Alexandria has spent so much of the day crying that she is in her crib (still crying) and I am locked in my bathroom crying with her. You don't see the times I get so angry over a glass of spilled milk that when I step out of my body and look at myself, I look like a lunatic--and when I step back in, I can see the terrified faces of my children. You don't see the days I wake up crying because i know today will be the same as yesterday and tomorrow will too. You don't see the pictures of my tear stained cheeks because I'm alone. Because I'm lonely. Because I'm doing this alone. You don't see me hunting the house, screaming like a maniac at 630am looking for socks because I didn't do the laundry..again. You don't see these things because I don't show you. I don't show you all the millions of ways I fail these children every single day. I don't show you the millions of ways I fail my family, the ways I fail myself.

But today....today they hit me like a ton of bricks. I looked around my house-at my children-at myself and realized I'm not doing them justice at all. They deserve so much more than this life....so much more than I could ever give them. Would Lizard act the way he does if I had 10 minutes to color a picture or play Thomas the train? Would Creeps have to ask me if I still love him because there's just no time for him anymore? Would Woogie want to be here if here was fun? Would Bert be quite so far behind if I gave her the time and attention she needed without wishing I were doing something else? Would Lissy smile more often...like she used to if I didn't yell at her for just being one? There is no end to the amount of love I feel for them, or to the number of things I would do to make them happy. I'm smart enough now to realize though that I can never give them those things. I can never be that person.  Its a pill I need to swallow, and then...move on.

Im tired. My body, my mind, and my heart are tired. I'll keep trying to prove I'm good enough. To you, to them...and maybe someday even to myself.

"Im still here, until I'm gone. Dont you rub in too hard that I've been wrong...all these years."

What I Need My Kids To Know...Today, and Everyday.

For the last few days, something has been weighing heavily on my mind. As parents, we are charged with raising our children to be the very best versions of themselves that they can be. We teach them right from wrong, we teach them about morals and ethics and what it means to just be a decent human being. And so, I take a look at my own children. What do I want to instill in my kids? What do I need them to know today? I came up with a few, and perhaps you can relate. 

Boys:
-Will you understand the value of a woman? Any woman? Every woman? Will you treat her-whoever she is-always with love and respect? Do you understand that you don't have to like them all, in fact-you probably won't...but you can never be unkind or abusive? 
-Will you realize that hitting a woman, regardless the reason makes you the weakest, lowest life form on the planet? Will you realize that there's never a good excuse? One day, when you're angry for all the ridiculous reasons that people get angry, will you raise your hand to her and think of your sister? Will you ask yourself what fury you'd feel if a man raised his hand to her? Will you know better than to ever let it get that far? 
-Will you realize that abuse is NOT just physical? Will you realize that calling her stupid, belittling her, talking down to her, and bullying her are ALL forms of abuse? Will you understand that as her partner you should build her up, and never, ever let her be torn down--let alone that you ever be the one doing the tearing? 
-Will you remember the way your daddy loved me, and carry that with you everywhere you go? Will you remember that touches are important? Kisses are important? TALKING is important. So many men forget that part. Fall in love with her mind, as much as her body. 
-Know that "no" ALWAYS means "no". Regardless whether you are courting her, dating her, or married to her, her body is her own. If she isn't in the mood, she isn't. Never, ever make her do something she doesn't want to do---that's sexual abuse, and that's not something a good man does. 
-Know that it's YOUR job to provide for your family when you choose to have one. No, I'm not saying that your lady can't work outside of the home. What I AM saying is--you SHOULD. Don't be content to stay home and let her take care of everything. Be her knight in shining armor-be her hero. Take the jobs that suck to pay the bills and keep food on the table. 
-If you value her enough to have sex with her, value her enough to face the consequences of those decisions. Be a decent man, be an AMAZING father. I have always lived by the mantra that you don't have to be a husband to be a dad. I believe that to the fullest. My greatest wish for you is that you find a beautiful girl, you get married, and THEN you have children. And you raise them together, happily. I wish I could say this was easy, or even common, but it's not. As your mother, I charge you with always being there for that child. Every day, even if it's a five minute phone call. Not every relationship works out. And if it doesn't, remember that you broke up with her, and not your children. Be their dad. The best one you can be. Don't give another man the opportunity to do the job better than you. 
-Know that you can always turn to your dad and I when these things don't make sense. When the world doesn't make sense. We don't have it all figured out, but we'll never stop trying to help you figure it out. 
-And finally, lead your family in Christ. In your father, you have the most amazing guide and example of what it means to be the Christian leader in your household. Always keep God first and the rest will fall into place every time. 

Felicity:
-Know your value. You are a beautiful girl, and as you age, you are only going to get more beautiful. The boys are going to chase you, and tell you everything you want to hear. They're going to be good at it. Don't settle for the first guy that winks at you. You're worth more than that. 
-Respect your body. We are living in a world where women, no, girls, are having sex at a frighteningly young age. I will never tell you NOT do it, because I was a young girl too, and I know what forbidding does to a person. What I will tell you is this: Your body is the most precious and sacred thing you have to give. When you are ready to give it to someone else, make sure that someone is worthy of the honor. Make him earn it. Any girl can hike her skirt up in the backseat of a car. Be the kind of girl that makes him prove he's better. Those are the kinds of girls they bring home to mommas like me. 
-If he hits you, he does NOT love you. I don't care what he says, I don't care what anyone else says. Men who love their women don't-no-can't hurt them. If by some chance I'm wrong, and he really DOES love you, it won't matter because if he hits you, your daddy is going to kill him. 
-Be goal oriented and career driven. Wanting to be a wife and have children is a wonderful goal, and is something I wish for you more than you could ever know. But before you do those things, think about what you want out of YOUR life. Do you want to go to college? Do you want to serve your country? What do you want to be when you grow up? Starting a family and a life will be so much easier if you've figured out how to support and maintain that lifestyle. 
-Find a man who is willing and able to take care of you. I want you to do so much better than I did. I want you to have your own job, your own career, your own path, and I want you to have the means to make it on your own if you had to. And then--I want for you the thing I did RIGHT. Find a man that would rather you didn't work. Find the man that is willing to work as hard as he has to so that you don't have to struggle. And when you find that man, work alongside him, and together create a successful, flourishing family. 
-You're not going to marry the first guy you fall in love with. There are going to be so many heartbreaks...I can't even begin to explain. When you really like a guy, and there will be a bunch, try to remember that it's temporary. When that doesn't work-and it won't, always have your best friend, your momma, ice cream, and a sad movie. Your momma will cry with you, your best friend will threaten him, and we will all eat ice cream and watch movies. These things are essential. 
-Your dad is going to be overprotective and worry about you too much. I will probably do the same. This world is a scary place, full of scary people. Not all of them are bad, in fact, most of them aren't. But remember, it only takes one bad one to change your life forever. Be street smart, keep your wits about you, and remember that there is NOTHING more important than your safety. 
-Marry a guy who honors and respects his mother. If he talks negatively about her, he's the wrong guy for you. Marry a guy who always puts God first. Above everyone, including you. Marry the guy who never gives you a reason to doubt him. If you take nothing else from my words of wisdom to you today, take this: If you are dating a man, and there are warning signs and red lights blinking all around you-he's the wrong guy. Those red blinking lights and warning signs will only get brighter and faster until a warning becomes a reality. Your intuition is your most valuable asset. Use it. 
-NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER be "the other woman" . God will never lead you to someone else's husband or boyfriend. If he's the one, make him prove it. If God's plan is truly for you to have him, then he will-at some point be un-involved and then you can pursue him. If he will cheat with you, it's highly unlikely he'd not cheat on you. 

And, for all of you-
Remember that if things get tough, and you don't feel like you can figure it out on your own, you have an amazing line of support  behind you. Our family is enormous, and so full of love. Your family-the one you have standing beside you today, and the one you will eventually create are everything. Right under God, your family is #1. They will always be there for you, always have your back, always take care of you. Even when they don't want to, even when they can't, even when they don't agree with you. Be open minded and optimistic. Family can come in the most unlikely of places and mean more than you could ever dream of. Open your eyes, ears, and heart to all experiences and live your life to the very fullest. No one else can do that for you. There will come a day when I won't be there to hold you hand. When that day comes, remember everything I've taught you, everything I wanted for you, and...if nothing else, the way I loved you. The way I always loved you. And boy, did I. You are all going to grow up to be such amazing, successful, kind-hearted people, and its going to be a hell of a journey. Remember how you got there, and be ever humbled. 

Just some things on my heart this morning

When I was growing up, I knew that someday I'd be a mom. I knew there were other things I wanted to be, of course I had ambitions, but above all else, I wanted to hear a tiny, little voice call me mommy. When I was 19 years old, and enlisted in the Air Force, that dream became a reality. I knew full well that I wasn't ready to be a mom, and I had NO idea how I was going to pull it off, but when that pregnancy test read positive, I never once considered not having it, and to this day, if I could do it all over again...I absolutely would. 9 months later, I gave birth to the most perfect little boy. He was absolutely beautiful and he changed the way I thought about everything. There's this quote that says "I never knew how much love my heart could hold until I was a mom." Truer words have never been spoken. It sounds cliche, but you just don't know until you're holding a life that you created. It's amazing. Each day passed and saw my little guy growing up and learning more. He's always been exceptionally smart for his age. Sometimes-he even busts out with something that I don't know. It's astounding. He was talking incredibly early, and it took the rest of his body a little bit longer to catch up with his intellect. Once he finally did start walking though, he was all over the place, and more like a 3 year old than the 1 year old he actually was. I knew he was destined for great things. Truthfully, I still DO know that. As Jason gets older, he exhibits other traits just as strongly as his intelligence. He's strong willed, he's stubborn. He's articulate, and he's brave. He's pig-headed, he's kind, he's thoughtful, he's loving, and he's generous. These are all qualities that I LOVE about him. They are qualities that are going to take him SO far in the long life that he has ahead of him. They are things that are going to make him an amazing father someday. They are going to drive his career so that he's successful. They are going to make him successful in everything he does. For all of those things, Jason is also high strung. He's anxious, and he's frustrated. He's energetic, and impulsive. He's intelligent and confused. These are the things that are not so easy to deal with most days. It's hard as a parent to know if you're doing right by your child. I never wanted to be the kind of parent that threw him on some kind of medication and let him go. I never wanted to consider that I'd need to do that. Lately though, I watch as my sweet boy, the light of my world, continues to struggle. As smart and generous as he is, he's also incredibly defiant and disruptive. He brings notes home that frequently feature the words "impulsive" and the phrases "out of his control". These are the kinds of things that you can' t fix as a parent. There's no magic mommy wand that I can wave, nothing I can say to him that is going to change the way he's wired. So this is when we're faced with those difficult decisions, about putting the life, personality and feelings of my 7 year old little boy in the hands of western medicine. I know it's what he needs. I truly do. I know he needs to see a doctor, and deal with whatever is plaguing his little heart. He needs to deal with the anger that he feels, over whatever is causing it. He needs to deal with the things that cause him anxiety, and he needs an outlet for the energy. The question has never really been whether or not to have him treated, the question has ALWAYS been "To what extent?". You see, I know this little boy. I know him better than any other person in the entire world. I know him better than he knows himself. I have watched him grow from a tiny infant, just learning about the world into the amazing person he is today. I know what makes him tick, I know what he loves and what he hates. I know what stresses him out, what sets him panicking, and what calms his nerves. I KNOW him in a way that only a mother can. The struggle in my mind, today and everyday, is: what do we treat, and what is just Jason? He has quirks that he's had since he was old enough to display them. He's got ways about him that make you say "Well, that's Jason." I so badly want to take care of my son, yet am so afraid to be treating a personality rather than a condition...if that even makes any sense. Sometimes, I can't make sense of what's going on in my own head. I wonder often if this is how his brain feels. 

So the first step in moving forward was calling the pediatrician this morning. We're going to start the process by finding someone that he can talk to. Someone who is going to take the time to get to know my Jason for every amazing thing he is before throwing him on some random medication, regardless what it is. And then we're going to wait it out. Once we come to whatever determination it is we come to, we're going to have to pull together as a family to be the very best we can be for him. We're going to have to be more tolerant, less emotional, and less impulsive ourselves....because he's going to need support and love more than he ever has. Jason can be so frustrating, but truly all I want for him is for EVERYONE to see the amazing person that's under the anxiety and impulses. I want a change to the way the talk about him. Instead of "Jason's a great kid, and we love him, but...", I want to hear "Jason's an awesome kid, and we love him." There truly is so much to love. I've got to get some resolve, and pray on the changes that we'll need to go through. I know that God is holding my little guy in His hands, and I know that He's going to point us in the direction of what is best for Jason, regardless the opinion of anyone else. It doesn't matter what I think, or what D thinks, or what anyone else thinks, because God knows...and He's going to put the right people in our path to make my boy happy and whole again. I just have to hand it to Him and give Him the opportunity. Sometimes that's the hardest part. 

Felicity

Congratulations, you're pregnant!

Wait.....what?

So...by now, all of you know that D and I are expecting again. Whoa. Yea, I pretty much would have rather been disemboweled than pondered the idea of having a 4th (5th) child. It seems as I get older, I lose the patience for the shenanigans that once were so easy to follow. People who say parenting is easier as you get older lied. I got the news and thought to myself that it was impossible, of course they had to be wrong. After all, I'd had my tubes tied, I'd been on birth control, and frankly, hadn't had the time or energy to be very sexually active anyways. God had other plans. After putting it off for weeks, I finally made the trip to the ER to find out what was going on....and SURPRISE! There's a BABY in there. Yikes. 14 weeks of tiny, growing fetus. I told D when I got home from the hospital that night, and watched as his jaw hit the floor. I could definitely relate to that feeling. Both of us were feeling...overwhelmed. (Honestly, we kind of still are.) One day and a visit to my primary OB later, we decided to embrace the plans that God has for us, and the first step in THAT difficult direction was telling our family. We chuckled about it a little, because no one was going to expect to hear I was pregnant after my tubal. Boy. The support was overwhelming. Instead of the frustration, harsh words, and anger we were expecting, we got love. I could go on and on and not cover how much it meant to us to NOT have to endure lecture after lecture. After all, no one was as shocked and frustrated as we were. We kept chugging along, making sure everyone from the family knew, and then before we knew it, it was time for our gender reveal. The best part of finding out you're pregnant at 14 weeks is that you only have to wait 2 weeks to find out what you're having! So, we headed out to the doctor, prepared to hear the news that we would be adding a 4th boy to our already competent soccer team. God had other plans though, and we both sighed and I cried when the ultrasound technician said... "It's a girl!" We excitedly told the rest of the family that we were expecting the girl we'd been hoping for. The rest...as they say-is history.

    Today, I am 23 weeks pregnant. Which means, what? I'm halfway through this thing, with just 16 weeks left to go. This pregnancy has been so complicated. It's been extremely high risk since day one. I've basically been on bed rest since I found out I was pregnant. Honestly though, that's the part that's easy. The part that's hard is emotional. Each time there's a pain that's a little more extreme than the rest, my mind goes to that dark place. Any time I go the day without feeling her move, I automatically begin to mentally prepare myself for the worst. It's funny how loss changes you in that way. I remember being grateful for the times when Logan wasn't kicking because I could sleep. With Owen, I panicked when he didn't move around. With this one, it's a calm sort of resolve. I don't freak out and rush to the hospital---I just begin to prepare myself for the bad news. The thing I "know" is coming. Then she kicks me hard in the belly, and I cry. Being jaded is hard. The end of this week will see me officially out of the "danger zone". Since my latest loss happened at 23 weeks, we are to be on hyper vigilant alert mode until the end of this week. After that, it's business as usual until she decides to make her appearance. She has overcome so many odds to still be kicking, with her little heart beating so strong...i have a feeling that she knows she is for this world. She is supposed to teach D and I something, she's supposed to be here. She's supposed to touch the lives of everyone in some way. It's easier to keep from freaking out when I think of her in this way. God has a purpose for her, that much is clear. I am so looking forward to watching her grow and discovering what that purpose actually is. Until then....I'll probably be a little overly worried, a little hysterical, and a little bit of an alarmist. When you've lost and hurt as i have, no pain is insignificant, and everything is worth worrying about until it isn't anymore. There's so much to love about this pregnancy and what it means though, that I'll have to be hysterical while remembering to enjoy every single minute. <3

Where is God?

I hear this a lot. It annoys me kind of, but it didn't used to. Used to be, I was the one saying it. Thinking it. Feeling it. Where was God on that morning in January when she didn't have a heartbeat? Where was God when I said goodbye to my beautiful girl, my only girl? Where was God when I couldn't get out of bed, when I couldn't be a mother to the 2 boys who desperately needed me to be? I know now though, that sometimes Heaven is silent. 

Sometimes the only evidence of it lies in the wonder of the night sky, the twinkling of the stars. The presence of something that can't be of this world. You look up and think to yourself...yea, that must be Heaven. Often though, it's hiding. It seemed to me that the only soul in the world that mattered had left this cold, hateful place and brightened up the streets of Heaven. Sometimes, when I'm holding her tiny urn, and I'm standing on the waterfront...the place where love and grief unite...it feels like purgatory. I'm begging for Heaven's gateway to open so I can see her again. It doesn't. 

Your urn is a promise that you are close to me, yet you still seem so far away. We celebrate your birthdays and angelversaries as evidence to those around us that we still care. The balloons float to the Heavens, and the flowers that celebrated your life wither and die. Perhaps the flowers are doing something we just can't. They've accepted that the only way to reach you is through death. They die so you may know we care. 

At night, I am plagued by dreams of what could have been, what should be have been. I love them, but they hurt me. The interactions with women and their daughters that I see throughout my days become transient memories of my own. I dream of things I've done with you. No, I haven't. Those are things experienced by another woman. A woman whose daughter didn't die. I cling to these dreams though, revel in them when they come. The joy is gone as quickly as it came, when the sun comes up. 

 I've spent a fair amount of time yelling at the skies, offering a trade for my daughter. I'd give my life for hers. Only the love of a parent could drive a person to do these kinds of things, but I do. As is always the case, the sky doesn't answer me. Heaven reveals nothing of it's incredible beauty, of the light she dances in. Instead, it's answer is rain. Perhaps a response of the angels, of my daughter...who cry because I do. 

In desperation, I turned my eyes back to God. He does nothing new, yet he provides me with the kind of continual hope that can only come from him. Someday I'll see you again. Someday there will be a sign. Regardless of what I say or do though, Heaven remains hidden, and you do too. 

On my best days, I fight the silence. On my best days, I have the courage to say your name out loud. It sounds majestic to me, and I talk about you. I put on the face that says "I'm okay", and I do the day to day. When it's over....I go home. You're still not in my arms, and I'm alone. I hide behind the walls in my room, and I live with the secrets I hold in my heart. I pray. 

It seems to me that you must be a step behind me. Heaven is so open and beautiful and without rush that you have no need to move quickly. Nothing is with urgency. Perhaps you are only a step ahead....always turning the corner before me. I think sometimes I can see the back of your curly head, just a step ahead of me, squealing with delight, tickled by the freedom that is Heaven, happy with the love that comes from Jesus. Or maybe neither is true. Maybe, just maybe...you walk beside us. Always hidden in plane sight, blending in with the trees as we make our way through this life without you. 

Sometimes, in the middle of the ordinary, I catch a glimpse of a light in my minds eye. It's like you've dropped the lantern that lights your way. For an instant, I see your face. I see God. As quickly as you come, you are gone again, but you brought with you the hope that one day Heaven will no longer maintain it's silence. That you are up there, you are happy, and you are walking the streets of gold hand in hand with our Lord and Savior. For this reason, we carry on. We keep walking, we keep moving forward. We praise the Lord that watches you, that cares for you, and we pray for and thank God for the little moments when we get to see Heaven.

 

Something...

I blog a lot about Bella. I know I do this: I started this blog because of her. An outlet for my feelings, a way to talk about something that people don’t like to talk about that. I know it do it, and I can own it. Sometimes other topics really get me stirred up, and I feel moved to talk about them. Today, I’m going to write about a combination of the two…in something that has changed my heart. It’s been both healing, and absolutely destroying. It’s interesting how they can co-exist. The other night…after waiting for months, I watched the movie that the Stillbirth community has been very (im)patiently waiting for. Return to Zero stars Minnie Driver, who to be honest, I usually don’t really care for. Her movies are always just “so-so” to me, and I don’t follow them. I’m not sure if this movie is different because she acted in such a way that I actually believed her, or if it’s because the topic of the movie was so close to my heart. The scene is simple, really. A woman, who is very pregnant, finds out she is expecting a baby  boy. She and her husband are very excited for his arrival, and so in love with him. At 38 weeks, when she should have been waiting for him to make his debut, pains send her to the doctor where her worst fears are confirmed. There is no heartbeat. This is first heart-wrenching moment of the movie. She pleads with the doctor, begging him to check again….begging him to find the heartbeat that wasn’t there. I can relate to that. Oh boy. The rest of the movie follows her struggle with grief, with coping, with social situations, and eventually with being pregnant again. I can relate to those feelings too. At one particular part of the movie, a woman is talking to her about God. This woman is going on and on about everything happening for a reason, and “God’s Plan”. This part of the movie hit me so hard that I actually was crying and laughing at the same time. I remember giving up on God after the loss of Bella. I remember crawling into a hole and refusing to come out of it. I remember being down as far as I could get and not WANTING to come out, not wanting to be saved. I remember that hurt. At one point in the movie, the main character said something that had run through my head so many times it was actually kind of scary. I can’t remember or find the exact quote, but this is the best summary I can give you. She looked into this woman’s eyes and asked her how it was in God’s plan to have her suffer a loss so great that it caused her to lose her faith in God. Wow. I was so floored. Wait a minute, you mean other people are feeling this too? This happened to someone besides me? I couldn’t believe it. Once I got over the shock of what I heard, and the laughter died down, I began to cry. How had I been so blind? How had I been so stupid? How had I allowed myself to walk away from Jesus, when I needed his arms to hold me the most? Why didn’t I realize then what I know now? God’s plan for Daniel and I was to have Owen…something that never would have been if we’d had Bella. God gives us the tools we need to endure the suffering. Why didn’t I realize then that he was holding me? Why didn’t I realize that I survived because she did not? There are so very many things I would do differently if I could go back in time and change things. I tell myself often that I would bring her back, I would save her…but the honest to God’s truth is that I wouldn’t. Nothing I could do or could have done would save her life…if she hadn’t died that way, she would have died another. I can own that now. This movie was healing for that purpose. Towards the end of the movie, we watch her give birth to her baby boy. We watch her push…and push and push…and he won’t come out….he’s not helping her. We watch her break down, plead with him…tell him that it’s ok…that she loves him…that he can let go….we watch her agonize, and then I agonize with her. I remember this. This is familiar to me. I remember pushing out a baby who I knew wouldn’t respond to me. I remember that. And then…there he is. He’s small and purple and quiet. He doesn’t cry…and she doesn’t expect him to….and we watch. We watch her go through the motions…she’s there but not really. I remember that too. I wish I had the pictures, I wish I had the memories depicted in this movie but I don’t…I hate that. Those are the things I’d do again. Those are the decisions I’d make for us and not for the time and comfort of others. And so, I walk away from this movie changed. How often does a movie truly change your life? I walk away from this movie knowing that I really am not alone. Every line of dialogue was something I had said…something I had thought. Much of it was things Daniel had said to me. I proudly say that my relationship with Daniel emerged stronger rather than weaker for having lost her…neither of us cheated or hated the other….we came together and we grieved together. I’m proud of us for that. We are 1.5 years into our rainbow baby, and 3 years into our grief process and we are still, at times, learning exactly how to do it all. We learn what kind of parents we want to be, we learn what kind of bereaved parents we need to be. We do it together. But now we know that we aren’t alone. It’s not just us. We are the 1 in 4, but we aren’t the only ones. There are 1 in 4’s everywhere…learning to live again…and understanding that that’s okay. If you’ve lost a baby or even if you haven’t….you NEED to watch this movie. It’s beautiful, it’s moving, it’s amazing. I’ll be watching again SOON.

Happy

Happy isn't a thing, it's a state of mind. You can't have happy, you just are. Since its not something you can possess, you have to want it. You have to be happy on purpose. This is not always easy. When you wake up in the morning, you have to choose to be happy. You have to choose to not let the events of the day tarnish your ability to be happy. So often, having a positive attitude is instrumental in having a happy life. How can you be happy if you have a negative outlook on everything that happens to you? Sometimes we get so wrapped up in the bad things that happen to us that we forget to rejoice in the fhings that are amazing.
This is the part where youre going to hear about my faith. No one is forcing you to read it, its just MY truth. It may not be yours. There is only one way to happiness.  At least, the real kind. It comes through an honest,  raw relationship with Jesus. It comes from putting in the time. It comes from letting go of of the show, and focusing on the reality. If the rest of the people in the world see that you are prayerful and full of thanksgiving, but you are not, you are only doing a disservice to yourself. Happiness can not be achieved by pretending to have it. Saying that you said a prayer and actually saying one are different. Be comitted to your relationship with Christ. Seek Him, seek enrichment in life through Him anyway you can get it. Place your worries and anxieties in Him. The Bible tells us that He has it under control, and can handle anything. So why don't we believe that? You can choose to trust the Lord and let him guide you, care for you, and provide for you, or you can dwell on your situation.You can complain, you can whine, you can pout. God sees the pain you feel, put he also knows your plan. He knows your pain because he allowed it for you. Each ache, each pain, each loss, ech distress. They are instruments in the grand plan that is our lives. Perhaps they define who we will be in the next life.
The point in this, in my feeling, in my faith is simple. If you must become the change you wish to see, you have to start by making the decision to be happy. When I was younger, I read a quote that said Be Happy On Purpose. It didn't say to be happy when something good happens to you, or see what the day will bring. It said ON PURPOSE. Roll out of bed, let your feet hit the floor and decide that regardless what life throws at you today,  you will enjoy it. You will be happy because you are alive.Its not always easy to stay positive, to not let the world get you down. But when you put the hard work into it, you find that youre smiling more, laughing more, and taking joy in even the mundane day to day stuff. Im not naive enough to think that this doesnt apply to me too, and so its time to make some changes. Its timd to make a bigger effort to be happy, and do it on purpose. I hope you will too.

Bereaved Parents-RANT

As a bereaved parent, I am always looking for people who "get it". I'm always scouring the internet on the days when I'm overwhelmed and upset. I'm looking for forums where I can talk to people about the hurt I feel over losing Bella....people who are feeling the same things. I started following a page recently, and I won't mention the name of it, because that's not my style, but I really think this page sends the wrong message to mothers, no, parents, who are facing loss. You can search "pregnancy and infant loss" on the internet and find hundreds of heartfelt poems, pictures, and thoughts. You can find just as many full of jest, cynicism, and sarcasm. I say those are written by people who have never lost a child. If you look hard enough though, you can also find, in that search, an awful lot of anger. Here's the thing. You can sit down and have a conversation with me about Bella and know that I miss her. There's no denying it. Looking at her pictures still bring me to tears. Remembering her kicks still bring a smile to my face. But I'm not angry. I'm not bitter. This page...for mother's who have lost their children is such a negative environment. Why would I, as a parent on the mend, want such negative energy being thrown at me throughout the day? I'd be lying if I said that I didn't spend a long time in a bad place about Bells. Hell, if you go far enough back, I think this blog might even hold some proof of that. I had a lot of anger toward God, I had a lot of trouble with figuring out my faith, how it fit into what was happening in my life, and how to move forward. I struggled with people telling me "Everything would be ok" and "Everything happens for a reason". My ultimate decision was that I didn't have faith. I decided that any God with as much power and might as the one I'd heard about wouldn't have let my daughter die. It took me a long time to "get right with God" I guess. It took me even longer to get right with myself. 
      A mistake that this particular site is making, that I think many bereaved parents make is that they are bitter, and to be honest, a little bit naive. There are a few facts about losing a child that we just have to deal with. I'll share them with you now. 

          1. You have to be a parent, but you don't get to have a child. 
I think this one is probably the hardest of the pills to swallow. People will ask you how many children you have. If you're like me, and have more than one, you can just answer "4" (in my case) and people will keep walking, without much more thought into it. If your loss was your first, then you have a whole other beast to deal with. You have to deal with the questions, the comments, the looks. People can be cruel, and they can be insensitive. Most other people don't consider you a parent if you never got to take care of a child...but that's not true. 
          2. People are going to console you, and they have no idea what to say.
What can they really say? I mean, lets be honest. No matter what you say to me, you don't get it. People who offer condolences aren't doing it because they want YOU to feel good, they are doing it because THEY want to feel good about a particular situation. This is the reason why Christians give you our unsolicited blessings, and prayer. Even if you don't believe in God and you don't want it. When this happens, take it for what it is. Be thankful for their intent, and ignore the undertones, Christian or otherwise.
          3. Being a bereaved parent does NOT give you the right to be an asshole.
Yes, you lost your child. And that sucks. I get to write this part and mean it because I've been through it. Who are we to tell someone that their well wishes aren't important because they didn't say the right thing? We are part of a group that the vast majority of people would rather just avoid. It's an uncomfortable conversation to have with anyone. To be perfectly blunt, people just don't like to talk about dead babies. It's hard. And it's even harder when it's someone we care about, or who cares about us. Stop being an asshole to that person who offers prayers, or tells you that your child is in a better place. Of course you feel that the only good place is in your arms. Chances are, they probably feel the same way. They're saying what people say. You don't get to be a douche and be excused from that because your baby died. It's not good form. 
          4. You're going to be jealous of every woman who is or gets pregnant after your loss. 
Yup, it's true. How dare they get pregnant when you just lost your child? WHAT were they thinking? People should have completely abstained from sexual activity and terminated the pregnancies the second you lost yours. Right? Umm, no. This refers back to number 3. You are unfortunately part of  an elite group of women who have children in Heaven. (or in hell, or in prague, or limbo, or whatever it is you believe in. I for one, believe my daughter walks the streets of gold. I think that's pretty awesome.) And that sucks. Trust me, I know. Something we have to learn is that not everyone has to experience this kind of pain just because we have. In fact, if we have learned anything from losing a child, it's that we shouldn't WANT ANYONE to experience this kind of pain. EVER. 
          5. It DOES get better when you have another child.  
Ahhh, the rainbow baby. The light in the darkness, the smile to your frown, the sunshine to your rain. And yes....that's exactly what they are. It really does help when you have a healthy baby. I'll tell you why. Your body is triumphant! YES! I DID carry a baby to term. YES! I did successfully deliver a living, breathing child! YES! I DO get to take this one home. And then you do. You get to use all that baby stuff that's just been sitting in the closet. You get to use some of those baby clothes, and baby blankets that you had hidden in the closet. You get sloppy baby kisses, sleepless nights, fevers, stinky butts, first smiles, first laughs, first teeth, and first steps. You get all of those things that you missed when your baby died. All of those things you should have had. Your home is no longer full of unused baby stuff...it's full of baby stuff with purpose. Full of baby stuff used for a baby who can change your life. 

My Very OWN Rainbow Baby

 
          6. Everything DOES happen for a reason- even if you don't want it to. 
This is a big one for me. This is something I keep hearing: "It's easy for you to say everything happens for a reason because YOU didn't lose YOUR baby." Let me just throw this out there. You don't have to believe in God, or divine intervention, or destiny in order to use successfully the mantra that everything happens for a reason. BECAUSE IT DOES! If your baby died it was for a REASON! Isabella did not die because God needed an angel (well, perhaps she did, but that's a religious viewpoint), Isabella died because my body produces an anti-body. This anti-body attacks the placenta until eventually it breaks it down. At 23 weeks gestation, my body won the battle against the foreign object that was my daughter. The reality of it is that my Bells died because my body failed her. I've come to terms with that, as hard as it is. But I'm also smart enough to realize that there WAS a reason. We don't get to be naive just because we've lost kids. It doesn't work that way. 

 Perhaps I got a little too comfortable up there on my soapbox. I blame my papa for that, he's who I learn it from. I guess what my message in all of this is, is simply this: No, it's not easy to be a parent of a child who has died. They are easily forgotten, there are so many things we miss out on, it's sad, we are broken hearted. But just as the wounds of losing those close to us do, this heals. Time heals it...time makes it better. Stop being so negative about something which you can not change. What service is it doing to wallow in self pity? What good does it do to be angry and bitter? How are you being helped by alienating your self with entitlement and hatred? Thanks to a lot of soul searching, a trip, and the pushing of my family, I got in touch with God again. (That's a whole other blog post entirely, and one I've been toying with for months now.) But maybe that's not for you. Perhaps you don't believe in something bigger than yourself, or that your daughter could be in that place. As for me, I believe my daughter is in the lap of Jesus, who loves her better and more purely than I ever could. What on earth could be better than a life of peace, and perfection? Whatever you believe in, know this: The people who are offering condolences are doing the best they can. Don't get so caught up in your own grief and bitterness that you lose sight of the fact that you need ANYONE who is willing to listen, ANYONE who is willing to take the time to say ANYTHING about your child. Don't believe that? Take a day digging in the depths of bereavement forums. "I'm posting this here because i can't post it on my page, no one likes to hear me talk about my son." " I just wish someone would say her name." "Why does everyone cringe and get quiet when I talk about him?" Learn to be less bitter about your situation and more grateful for the things you DO have. Love, support, guidance. You could do with a lot worse, even if you don't believe everything happens for a reason. Maybe, just maybe....you'll be in a better place too.

It's Christmas!

It's that time of year again. Yea...that time of year. It came a little faster than it usually does, it seems. Halloween is over, Thanksgiving is has long since passed, and Christmas is now only days away. Will this year be different than the last ones? Will I find the Christmas magic I feel like I've been missing? Hmm, did I ever really have it? These days, more often than not, I feel I have experienced only two holiday seasons. While I have physically lived through far more than that, emotionally, there have been only two: The ones before and the ones after Isabella's death. Those two seasons are, in themselves, so very different. 

Looking back, I know what my focus USED to be on. I remember being a child, and even into my early adulthood where all I REALLY cared about were the material things in this world. What would I get? What did I want? What would make me the happiest? Once I was an adult, and after I had had Jason, my focus shifted. I was still focused on the material things, but was now no longer interested in them for myself. What did he want? What would make him love me more? How would I manage to pay for all of it? Eventually the other boys came along, which really just intensified those feelings that I was already having. After all, that made that many more people I had to be materialistic for! I always finished the holiday thinking something was missing, thinking I had done something wrong.  I could never truly figure out what that something was, and by the time I did, the holiday season was over, and we were moving on. Whatever it was that was missing would have to wait until next year...at least.

In 2011, just after that aforementioned holiday season, Bella died. My world, which had been chugging along at a solid, steady pace, stopped dead in it's tracks. Everything that used to be important to me no longer was, and things that used to seem so crucial were now so trivial. How could those things have been such a big deal?  Oiy. To say my heart was broken was an understatement. There truly is no appropriate term for the loss I felt, for the hole that was inside of me. I never thought for a minute that I could heal this broken heart...that i would recover from this pain. I fell into a pit of deep despair, of darkness, and destruction. I knew eventually I would have to come out of it, and when I did, I'd be reborn.

That first set of holidays was easily the most difficult. That feeling when everything is still numb, and you're still trying to come to terms with the reality of what is. The pain that was her death was seeping in slowly though, no matter how hard i tried to fight it. Before I could blink it was Halloween, and the horror of what I had lost was ready with a snow shovel to plow me in the face. We went to the pumpkin patch, as we do every year, and i bought a pumpkin for her anyway, though she wouldn't get to carve it. It was a tiny one, but it was hers.  Thanksgiving came with Christmas on its tail, bringing an empty space where her high chair should have been, presents for my baby who would never be, and silence where once I had laughed. I was sure it could not get any worse, but life always surprises, doesn't it? Then as the decorations went up, reality hit hard and was more than I felt I could bear.  I began wallowing in everything she'd never get to do, everything we'd never get to do with her. Those feelings have a way of sneaking up on you, and owning you, ya know? I would never get to pick out the perfect christmas dress for her to wear. I would never see her toddle down the hallway towards a Christmas tree overflowing with Christmas presents. I'd never see her grin at Christmas lights, or laugh as she chased a ball around the hallway. I'd never buy little girl presents especially for my one and only princess. I'd never hear her laugh, or say Merry Christmas, or see Santa for the first time. Never. And I'd NEVER, EVER enjoy the holidays again without her....or maybe even life...never.

The next year, I focused on just doing enough to get through, just enough to say we participated in Christmas for Jason and Logan, but my heart was never really in it...i just didn't feel like being in the Christmas spirit. I hung Bella's stocking right beside the rest of ours, illuminated her special candle to include her in our celebrations, and smiled cheerfully at everyone who offered us their joy filled "Merry Christmas!" And as I spread my Christmas cheer and goodwill toward men, working my humble job, bringing a Merry Christmas to the residents at our facility and making them feel at home, I had only one thought in my mind. It became my mantra: “If I can just make it through December, I will be okay.” I was no longer focused on the material side of the season as I had been in my younger years. In fact, I was no longer focused on the season at all. I wanted it over.

And so, here I am, on what will be my third Christmas without her. My third season of joy, my third year of fa-la-la-ing, my third year of Bella's physical absence. Reading this, you probably think you know where this is headed. You think I'm going to tell you that this year is going to be just like the rest of them.You imagine I'm gonna tell you that it never gets better, that there is no such thing as healing, and that as grieving parents, we will always be bitter and angry. You might think I'm going to tell you that we have a right to be, especially at a time when most families are celebrating a time of giving and we are remembering what has been taken away. If you're thinking those things, you'd be wrong. It took me a long time to get to this point, but here it is. Hold on tight.

Not long ago, I looked deep into my soul, and I saw a light there. I went to church, and that light turned into a fire. I found something beautiful. I found faith. The next morning, I woke up and things looked a little different. Overnight, it seemed, my world had gone from a dull, dingy gray, to a beautiful rainbow. It was beautiful. Later that day, I heard someone in my home softly singing Christmas carols. How dare they!? What were they thinking?!? But . . . It was me. That evening, I made the decision to do crafts with the kids again! We'd do an advent calendar! A lesson of Baby Jesus, and the light that saved me. I bought Randall the Reindeer (Which is like Elf on the Shelf but less creepy!) Suddenly, it hit me. No matter how guilty I feel in acknowledging it, I have to tell you, I am looking forward to Christmas. I'm looking forward to celebrating, and Santa! Oh . . . my . . . GOD. How can this be? Why is this happening?

After much thought over the situation though, I think I know why. I think I spent the holidays of the past looking through a lens that only focused on black and white, on the physical, on that which can be seen and physically felt. The lavishly wrapped gifts, excessive food, amount of money spent, and glittering (sometimes gaudy) lights on the tree. The next two were spent looking through a lens that was distorted and scarred by grief. I focused on what was missing rather than on what was still here. I think I wanted it that way. Now though, I think I've learned to do something mroe than just deal with the memories, I've learned to enjoy them. Although they can at times be bittersweet, I'm dealing with the fact that feeling emotion is really no different than feeling passion about something. It's  lighting a fire in my soul. She's a beautiful memory, and painful one. I have to remember her, miss her, celebrate her, and do that all at the same time. This year, as the cards fill the mailbox, and packages find our doors, as Christmas Carols take over the radio, and Santa is close to making his debut, I will choose a different lens, a lens that captures that which we cannot see or physically touch. A lens that goes beyond.

Of course, not everything will change. I will still hang Bella’s stocking beside ours, do my best to help those in need, light candles in her memory, and all of the other things that have made the last two years bearable. But this year, I hope to do these things with joy rather than with bitterness and sorrow. This year, I want to grasp the hand of a friend in church, kiss the cheek of my sweet son on his first christmas, and hold my boys close while they drift off to sleep, to a place where only children can dream. I want to watch Santa hold my wiggly, silly toddlers in his lap. I want to sing “O Holy Night” on Christmas Eve to a congregation full of people I trust when I haven't truly felt a song in my heart in years. I want to feel the Christmas that we cannot see.

This year, I want to remember the person I really am, the one I used to be. I want to enjoy the months ahead of me. Not because I need to or because someone else says it’s time to move on or that I'm obsessing—but because—well, because I can. This year, I want to find the magic I feel I've always been missing out on....and I want to do it before it's too late.