Funtime Friday

Why, hello there...

Felt the first kick from the baby this morning.

I'm almost 16 weeks and it's pretty early, but trust me - this is my third baby. I know a kick when I feel one.

Loss and hope

A friend that I haven't seen in a really long time came over for a visit today with her three boys.

Our kids had fun terrorizing each other and making a mess. And as mothers - we were constantly refereeing the mayhem.

In between the yelling and the playing, my friend asked me about my pregnancy. Questions about how I was feeling and what it was like to be pregnant again so soon after losing Sawyer.

Everytime a question came up, one of our children were about to hurl themselves off a chair or decided that the toy somebody else had was worth beating each other up over.

Amidst our shouts of discipline, I didn't really get a chance to answer...

But the thing is, she asked me things that no one ever asks - questions that I think a lot of people are afraid to ask.

But, at that moment, it meant the world to me that someone was acknowledging my pain, my loss - and my hope.

I make dinner now...

So here we are.

Winter.

I hate it.

But, things are moving along like they are supposed to.

My Mammers is potty trained and I couldn't be happier! She is growing into quite the young lady - except when she calls other kids a "son of a bitch" at Target. That's a blog for another day.

Erik's been really busy with work. It's tax time, year-end and all that fun stuff. So we're left here alone all day most days, and it's just been too cold and not worth the effort to even leave the house most days for me.

I've started to fall into a routine again. After the baby died, I lost all control over my entire life.

Now, I make dinner just about every night at the same time. I keep the house clean and have even started doing laundry. Biggest improvement for me? Taking a shower in the morning and actually getting dressed.

Go me.

Always heavy

Today is one of those days where I could just cry forever.

The more this baby grows inside of me, the more I miss him.

Two days. Not even two days.

I held him while he died. I held him for his entire life - the end of his life.

It doesn't stop. It doesn't stop.

Time does not make it easier. The person who said that is wrong. It's bullshit.

The weight of the grief? Is always the same. Maybe some days, it's easier to pick up - but the size never changes. It's always heavy.

Please, help us save babies

Friends and family -

Each year since Sadie's birth, we have joined the March of Dimes to promote a healthy start for babies everywhere. On our third anniversary of the March for Babies, this year's walk means more to us than we could have ever imagined.

This year, we walk in memory of our son, Sawyer.

For the first time, we are joining the Joliet March for Babies and I will be there as a special guest to promote support and awareness for pregnancy and infant loss as well as speaking about prevention.

I know times are tough, but what the March of Dimes does for our babies goes beyond the NICU. When Sawyer died, the March of Dimes personally contacted our family to lend their support through bereavement materials and pure love.

A huge reason we continue to support the March of Dimes is that they support grants that fund Congenital Heart Defect research. A CHD took the life of our son, and thousands of babies and children each year. Did you know that TWICE as many babies and children will die from a CHD than from ALL forms of childhood cancer...COMBINED. Those numbers have to change, so that another family doesn't have to let their child go, just like we did.

Please take a moment and consider donating to our team this year "Sawyer's Heart Heroes" - any amount helps greatly, and we appreciate EVERY donation. So please, help us honor Sawyer's brief life and the lives of all other babies gone too soon.

Just follow this link to make your secure donation. And again - Thank you. http://www.marchforbabies.org/mktarrant

14 weeks

So far, so good.

This has been my quietest pregnancy so far. And quiet is good.

I go back to my MFM at the end of the month to start the dreaded 17P injections. Thankfully, I have a sister and sister-in-law who are able to administer the shot for me each week so that I don't have to find an "injection clinic" to visit as an alternative. The 17P injections are to prevent preterm labor and while I'm on the fence about them, I'd deeply regret it if I passed on the shots and something happened to the baby.

Two weeks after this we head to Comer Children's Hospital where an ECHO will be done of the baby's heart. We are both anticipating this appointment very much and pray each night for a healthy heart and baby. A pediatric cardiologist will do the ultrasound and we should know about any structural abnormalities or defects of the heart right away.

We continue to thank God every day for what he has given us - Sadie, Sawyer and now our new baby - each has blessed us in so many ways.

We would appreciate prayers for this baby's health along with a few for my emotional strength which has been tested greatly the past few weeks. I'm having a difficult time trying to balance my grief and joy while not worrying about the outcome of this pregnancy. It's a fine line to walk, and I'm not sure I know what I'm doing really.

We're all very thankful for the continued support from our loved ones and will keep everyone updated on the new baby and some big news about "Sawyer's Heart" project.

Blowing kisses

Sadie's been feeling sick the past few days - just a fever and sore throat.

She woke up this morning and wanted to snuggle in Mommy's bed, so I grabbed an extra pillow and told her to hop in.

I was hugging her and she had both her hands on my face and kept saying "I love you Mommy. I love your face. I love your eyebrows" and kept honking my nose. It's this little thing we do I guess.

Then she pushed away for a moment and said to me out of the blue...

"I just want to play with baby Sawyer. Will I play with the baby in your tummy?"

Broke my heart!

So I told her that we can't play with baby Sawyer, but we can talk to him whenever we want, so we spent the next several minutes alternating between blowing him kisses and giving kisses to the new baby in my tummy.

It really seemed to make her happy - and it made me happy too.

Instant

There are these moments that I can't imagine will ever escape me.

The moment of panic.

The moment I saw my son for the first time.

The moment they said, "There's only so much we can do."

The moment I touched him.

The moment I thought I was going to die.

The moment he died.

They revolve in my head almost constantly - a merry-go-round of beauty and suffering.

How it feels, right now

I wrote this a few days ago on a private board I belong to for women who have the same blood disorder as me. Unfortunately, a few of them have also experienced a loss. I'm reposting just because it really explains what life is like at this moment.

So, I've made it to 12 weeks. But, after Sawyer died in June, I remember thinking to myself "12 weeks doesn't mean shit" and I guess I still kind of feel that way.

I'm thanking God on my knees every single night that we've come this far. And if he gives us another 12 - I will be on my knees thanking him again.

I still haven't told much of anyone beyond our very immediate family. It's too hard. I don't want to get anyone's hopes up, only to come crashing down. I don't want to hurt my new friends, who have also lost a baby and are struggling with fertility. I guess this is my place to express so much of my angst.

On Monday we go in to have an ultrasound to measure the baby's neck to see if it alerts us to any genetic abnormalities. From there, we have a fetal echo scheduled for mid-February - Please pray that our baby's heart is formed complete. I think I would collapse if I had to hear that we had another baby with a broken heart.

That's what's been so difficult about this journey. My heart is broken too and it will never be the same. I don't want anyone to forget about Sawyer yet I'm full of hope over this new chance we have at happiness.

I often wonder why I'll never be able to have all my babies here with me. What a beautiful thought that often is in a head that is full of confusion - all of us here, together.

But this is what happened to me. My son is gone and I hate that the gap between his short life and the present is growing. I never want the memories to fade, except - they are. And it hurts like you can't even imagine.

I just wanted to thank you all for giving me a moment to have an outlet for my grief, my fears. Much love always.

Our rainbow

This is our new baby.

We've waited a while to share our news, but felt that today was the day to do it. On the way to the hospital early this morning Erik and I saw a huge rainbow in the sky. It was a cold, clear morning and the sun was shining bright and then we saw it. The beautiful splash of colors against a rainless, cloudless sky in January.

It is said that the child who comes after a loss is a rainbow baby...

"When a rainbow appears, it doesn't mean the storm never happened or that the family is not still dealing with its aftermath. What it means is that something beautiful and full of light has appeared in the midst of the darkness and clouds. Storm clouds may still hover but the rainbow provides a counterbalance of color, energy and hope." (A mother from an infant loss board)

Our light is shining. Our hope is with us.

Pray for a long, uneventful journey as we navigate through our grief. Pray for our baby.