Out of the woods

Consideration, please

2012-02-19T04:55:00.001-08:00

We visited the cemetery today and - like always - carefully tended to our son's grave. We go to see Sawyer often. Probably more than most people think. The shock of his death has only very recently worn off, and there are still days where we feel completely numb all over again. I wish that people would be more considerate of our healing. That people would take a few seconds to think before they say so many things that can be so incredibly hurtful - not just to me and Erik, but to my children too. I had to hold my son and watch him die. Imagine that. Just try to imagine watching your child slowly die in your arms. So forgive me if I'm taking too long in grieving his life. Because even if I lived on this planet for all of eternity, I'd never get over it.

Without him

2012-02-16T22:47:00.001-08:00

I am so sad. Without him...I can't get off this merry-go-round of sad.

Loving-Kindness

2012-01-16T15:20:00.001-08:00

We can't give love to others until we can purposefully give love to ourselves with all of our mind.

For the first time in almost two years, I told myself that I was well, happy and peaceful.

In that moment, while the sun was setting - I loved who I was.

And right now, at this moment? I miss feeling that way more than anything in the world.

Ticking away the moments

2012-01-06T18:45:00.000-08:00

I swear to God I've had literally no time to post here - or maybe I should say - limited time - since Landon arrived a little over 6 months ago.

Did I just write that? Six months?

Here are some random Lando stats:

Allergic to milk-protein and soy
On expensive, prescription formula
Already had a UTI and Pertussis (lucky me!)
Has TWO teeth that came in on the same day
Can say "mama" "dada" "nana" "lala"
Rolls from one place to another
His favorite toy is the Jumperoo
Loves taking naps with mommy

I couldn't be happier the past few months. Now that we've figured out some of Landon's quirks, likes and dislikes - it's been pretty smooth-sailing.

Sadie has taken on the role of "big sister" in ways that I never could have imagined. She loves her brother so much and looks forward to the moment he wakes up in the morning and every time he wakes up from a nap. He is enthralled with watching her play and showing him how things work. They are going to be best friends, and I am so grateful that they will have each other for the rest of their lives.

I still feel that so much is missing. Yesterday I took a nap with Sadie and Landon in my bed and Sadie asked me to lay Sawyer's blanket across all three of us. It was a moment where that crowded bed suddenly felt so empty. My mind wandered to my sweet baby boy, what would he look like? What would he be like? Would he have blonde hair like his brother or bright, blue eyes like his sister? I wish I could know. I ache to know every day.

1 year, 3 months and 26 days

2011-09-26T08:38:00.000-07:00

It still feels like yesterday.

"Get over it"

2011-08-11T20:49:00.000-07:00

I will never get over Sawyer's life or his death...

I will never get over making the decision to end my son's life.

I will never get over how it felt to hold a brand new baby in my arms, and watch him slowly die.

I will never get over the way he gasped for air and kept fighting for his life, while my husband and I watched in horror and disbelief, that he kept fighting to live.

I will never get over his nurse checking over and over to hear when his tiny, broken heart finally stopped beating.

I will never get over knowing that the last time I saw his sweet face and touched his soft skin, was when I had to put him into a tiny, black box from the funeral home.

I will never get over you, sweet baby. Never.

Brothers

2011-07-18T06:13:00.000-07:00

Every time I look at Landon when he's asleep, I cry. Most of the time, it's just for a moment - But there are some days, where the tears just won't stop.

He looks just like his brother.

Photo Card

2011-07-10T09:19:00.001-07:00

Whoo's That Blue Baby Announcements

Announcements for all occasions: graduation, a new baby, or wedding.

View the entire collection of cards.

Waves of emotion

2011-07-06T05:30:00.001-07:00

The past few days since Landon's arrival have been some of the most joyous of my entire life. At the same time, I've been overwhelmed with some very deep feelings of guilt.

A few hours after Landon was born, I was finally taken up to the postpartum floor along with Erik. I hadn't even thoght about it, or anticipated anything - but once the doors opened and we were rolled onto the floor - a tsunami-sized wave of emotion washed over me.

I couldn't answer simplest questions from the nurses. All I could do was cry and point toward Erik so that he could do it for me. Everything was a reminder of what we had lost.

Now that we've been home for a few days, there are some moments where Erik and I catch ourselves gazing at Landon and we just cry. Cry for the light and hope in our lives and cry for what we've lost.

I'm sure most couples who have a baby don't start off conversations the way we do...

"When he's sleeping, he looks just like his brother did after he died, doesn't he?"

I truly believe that each one of my children were given to us for a reason. No matter what, Sawyer was going to be our son - and like his epitath says "Angel, you were born to fly."

And now that Landon is here, I truly believe in that sentiment even more.

Landon Sawyer Williams

2011-07-04T14:16:00.000-07:00

Born June 30th, 2011 at 5:10 p.m. - 6lbs 7oz and 20 inches long. Our son.

When it hits you

2011-06-17T07:33:00.001-07:00

I always check on Sadie before I go to sleep.

I never did that until everything happened, and I honestly don't know if I'll ever stop checking on her.

Last night I quietly walked into her room, pulled a pink blanket away from her face and gave her a soft kiss.

Her cheek was warm and soft. Perfect for kissing. And then it hit me.

Sawyer's cheeks.

When I kissed them - they were cold. Sunken in.

The thought of it made me gasp.

I never knew what it felt like to kiss his face when it was warm.

I try to think about the new baby and what it will be like to hold him in my arms. But I can't imagine it. As hard as I try, I can't see it at all. Maybe it's my head protecting my heart. Maybe I'm just completely paranoid and it's useless to try and make me feel better about the way I just feel.

After I closed Sadie's door, I sat on the floor in the hallway and just cried. My poor baby, those tiny cheeks.

If I only knew...

2011-06-02T21:56:00.001-07:00

I thought we were doing well.

Today, was hard. Such a small word to describe the enormous pain of reliving every moment of one tiny life.

I feel so much guilt.

We were getting ready to go to bed and I couldn't remember if I prayed the night before he died. I looked at Erik - my eyes filling with tears, "Did I even pray? I must not have prayed hard enough."

How many times did we visit the NICU on his second day? Was it really only three? What kind of mother visits her sick, premature son only three times in an entire day? I never should have left his side. I wouldn't have ever left his side if I knew...

The last visit we had with him was perfect. I held onto his tiny hand and stroked his delicate cheek. I remember talking with his nurse, we were all so hopeful for Sawyer.

The last thing I said to my baby was that I was sorry for not being there more. That every single day I would be able to visit longer and longer as my body healed from the c-section.

It was so hard to leave him that night because he looked so good. His color, his stats - he was stable for the first time since he was born. We went to sleep with peaceful minds, thinking that we had better rest up because the coming weeks and months that were ahead of us were going to be long.

If I only knew...

Tuesday morning

2011-05-31T21:13:00.000-07:00

Today felt like the day.

Tuesday.

The day after Memorial Day.

A trip up to the hospital.

The last time we did the exact same thing on the exact same day, it all started.

I was awoken out of my sleep when my water broke. I was half-dazed, walking to the bathroom and could feel my pants starting to soak with fluid. I thought I had urinated on myself at first.

When I turned the light on, I looked down to notice that my pants were tinged with a pinkish color. I smelled them. It smelled like nothing at all. I knew what happened.

Erik had been sleeping on the couch because he had a terrible cough just like me. I punched him hard in the back to wake him up. I had him smell my pants too. Same thing, nothing.

I was terrified and shaking. Erik called my mom and told her she needed to get to the house, now. I - and I still have no idea why - took a shower. I felt that I absolutely had to take a shower first before we could leave. Besides, we had time - no one was here yet to watch Sadie.

While I was in the shower, Erik had tried to call our friends - Carrie and Mike - a few times (they live just a few doors down from us) but there wasn't an answer. So he ran down to their house and rang their doorbell until someone came downstairs. Carrie was here just minutes later as we were ready to walk out the door.

I will never forget how scared I was at that exact moment - Carrie gave me a huge hug.

I remember the sound of my shoes as they pounded down the stairs out to the garage. I remember driving in the darkness and silence all the way to Chicago. I remember Erik pulling into the parking garage, desperately telling the attendant that I was in labor - where do we park? I remember, with each contraction, thinking that we were never going to make it to the hospital.

We did make it. And for that time, we were still okay - together. Three hearts beating.

Anticipation

2011-05-30T18:12:00.001-07:00

Here we go. Sawyer's birthday and angel day coming up this week. Everyone keeps telling me the anticipation is worse than reliving the actual days, but it's not like I'm actually anticipating anything.

I am expecting to reflect, remember every moment and contine to ache for the baby who died in my arms.

It's not anticipation, it's my son's life.

Too short. Too soon.

May 29th, 2010

2011-05-28T09:32:00.001-07:00

The last picture taken of me while Sawyer was still safe inside my womb. A blurry picture taken with Erik's phone. I was happy here. Happy because I could just lay back and listen to his tiny heart "woosh" with every beat. Little did we know, just how broken it was.

One year ago, my sister was having a birthday party for her son, he was turning three. Erik had just picked up Sadie the night before from my mom's house - that's where she was staying while I was home on bedrest.

I was so excited to see Sadie and even more excited for a long holiday weekend together. The days sitting here by myself were really starting to get to me. I was trying so hard to stay positive even though I knew something was just not right.

My sister had called to try and convince me to come along with Erik and Sadie to the birthday party. I wanted to go, so badly. But I was on strict orders from the doctor to stay put. My sister even offered to make up a place on the couch for me in her den, and bring me food or whatever I needed as the party went on - but, I didn't want to be stuck in the house, on a beautiful day with everyone feeling sorry for me. Alone, yet still surrounded by everyone. So, Erik headed off with Sadie to the party without me.

While I sat at home by myself I couldn't help but notice that something wasn't right with Sawyer. He was making his kick counts (10 within an hour) but the thing is, he wasn't exactly kicking. He was barely moving. Just enough for me to notice, but not enough to make me feel that he was okay.

We had known that my fluid was very low for the past month. I tried to relate that to the reason why he wasn't moving the way I felt he should be. But something in my heart kept telling my head to worry. And that's what I did.

I called over to the party and talked with my sister - crying between sentences, overwhelmed with dread. She said I shouldn't worry, and to call the doctor just in case.

Then, I called my sister-in-law who is a NICU nurse and explained to her how I felt. She has this very gentle way with words, and highly suggested I just go ahead and call the hospital. I needed that encouragement. I needed to know that what I was feeling made sense in some way.

By the time Erik came home and put Sadie to bed a few hours later, we were on our way to the University of Chicago. When I arrived, the standard tests were done. NST, BPP and everything checked out perfectly. The resident who took care of us that stormy late-spring night, reassured me that coming in wasn't a mistake. That she'd rather see us here and be wrong, than stay home and be right.

Two days later - she delivered our son, limp and gray, after my placenta abrupted.

Moments we miss

2011-05-26T21:21:00.000-07:00

The ache to hold you in our arms again has been growing and growing the past few days.

Sadie and I picked out the cupcakes that we're going to bake for you on your birthday. White cake with yellow frosting and baby blue sprinkles. I think it's perfect.

Today, we were putting away a lot of Sadie's old infant toys after running them through the washing machine and setting them out to dry. Sadie dutifully helped put all of the toys carefully into your brother's toy box. Then she said "Can I play these with baby Sawyer when he comes home?"

It's moments like these that take my breath away. Moments like these that are a constant reminder of everything we have missed out on with you.

Sawyer, you are so loved - can you feel it?

We miss you so much. We love you.

Mom guilt

2011-05-26T12:43:00.000-07:00

I feel like the worst mom ever lately.

Sadie and I have been fighting these awful sinus infections for a week now. And I am hitting that point in the pregnancy where I am exhausted 24/7. I can't do much with her anymore, if I'm on my feet too long my ankles swell and I get dizzy - my blood pressure's been hit and miss too so I have to watch what I'm doing.

I just feel awful because it's been pretty nice this week and we've been in the house most of the time. I tried taking her to a new splash park yesterday afternoon but she wanted me to hold her and take her on the monkey bars instead - which I totally can't do.

Anyway, sorry Sadie. I'm trying my hardest right now to be the best mom I can be to all of my children - and it's not easy.

Baby Pickles update - 32 weeks

2011-05-23T14:46:00.000-07:00

What a day.

An emotional up and down day.

I haven't written much about the new baby in a long time, mostly because things are going so good - I almost hesitate to say great because I don't want to jinx anything with him. And normally, I'm not the type of person to wish on falling stars or throw pennies into fountains, but I sure have found myself quietly hoping and praying for nothing but the best.

I made our first delivery through "Sawyer's Heart Project" to the NICU at Comer Children's Hospital. Ranae - the counselor who was there with us through every single step of our loss with Sawyer - met me at the clinic to pick up the blankets, sleepers and handmade hats. We had a really nice visit but with it almost being a year to the day of Sawyer's birth and then death - a lot of the talk was heavy. I still can't believe how far we have come in such a short amount of time. I truly credit the love and care of the staff at Comer for that initial start - so I was quite thankful to give back today.

After meeting with Ranae, I had my first NST and BPP. I haven't had either since the very day Sawyer was born. And I had been looking forward to the tests for the past few days since it had been about two weeks since I was able to see our little boy via ultrasound. I did not, however, expect to go into a full-blown panic attack once all the monitors were strapped onto my stomach.

The swoosh-swoosh of the baby's heart brought me right back in an instant. And I completely lost it.

Thank goodness I had a very understanding nurse who coaxed and convinced me that this time, we'd make happy memories - not scary, sad ones.

After that I had our ultrasound and everything looked fantastic. He kicked, stretched and practiced his breathing. The baby is still in the "frank breech" position - but it's okay because we're already planning a c-section anyway.

I met with our doctor and we finally talked very seriously about the upcoming c-section and birth of our new baby. Quite honestly, I'm scared shitless. I'm scared that something will go wrong. I'm scared that someone will die. I even asked my doctor to promise to be there when the time came for our little boy to make his arrival - to which she agreed.

The one thing that has her a little worried is that "she doesn't trust me" - or in other words, doesn't trust my body. Things are going really, really well right now - but my history of PPROM, plancental abruption and two emergency c-sections don't bode very well for this baby. Not that we are thinking the worst, just trying to prepare in case of another emergency situation.

So yeah, it was a long and exhausting day. A lot to think about and a lot to worry about, but it's okay to worry. It's okay to be scared. I think it would be completely abnormal not to.

I have three children

2011-05-17T14:39:00.000-07:00

I'm almost 8 months pregnant now, and coming up on Sawyer's birthday and then the subsequent days until his death. My emotions are starting to really get the best of me, I feel raw, open. Exposed.

We have planned for his birthday, positive things - to celebrate his life.

The following days though? I think we are going to leave town with our daughter, maybe the beach.

I just wish we were all here, all of us together.

I have three children right now. Three. Yet, the entire world sees just one.

Stop time

2011-05-04T20:25:00.000-07:00

I don't want it to be an entire year.

One more time...

2011-04-28T19:41:00.000-07:00

You are so beautiful Sawyer. I am aching so much for you right now. I want to feel you squeeze my finger. I want to know what color your eyes would have been.

All I want is to hold you one more time.

Just once.

But, I know that if I had the chance again, I would never let you go.

Baby Naomi

2011-04-21T20:09:00.000-07:00

No one should ever have to see what I saw yesterday - Let alone, live it.

My cousin's baby girl - Naomi - died suddenly this past Sunday. She was beautiful. Laid out in pure white, with the sweetest bonnet I think I have ever seen. Lace blanketed her tiny body. To me, she was perfect.

Surrounding her were many pictures and I couldn't help but notice that in every one of Naomi and her father - he was beaming. There is no doubt, she had his smile.

I kept saying to Erik that this was all too much, too soon. But, I don't think it would have mattered when it happened - it's always going to be too soon.

At the cemetery, they laid her to rest right next to Sawyer. They're cousins, you know.

Two babies who never had the chance to meet. Two babies who will never have a first Christmas. Two babies who will never take their first steps.

And now?

Two sets of parents. Too many broken hearts.

No words

2011-04-17T20:00:00.001-07:00

My cousin lost his baby girl this morning.

Sometime in the night, she quietly slipped from this world to the next.

When I think my heart can't be any more broken, a new crack forms.

Please pray for his family. This was their first baby, their only child.

Preparing

2011-04-03T14:45:00.000-07:00

About the same time last year, we began to prepare for Sawyer's arrival. Washing and folding sweet-smelling clothes and socks. Neatly tucking away blue washcloths with duckies into our linen closet.

Imagining, him. With us.

And here we are again.

Same tiny clothes. Same yellow towels.

And this time, I can't help but wonder what we're really preparing ourselves for. Will our new baby be born healthy? Are we actually going to be able to bring him home from the hospital?

Is he going to die too?

The moments, the smell of spring...

It's all too bittersweet for our hearts. I often find myself breaking down more, frightened by the lack of a guarantee that "everything will be okay this time."

We are so happy that we have been given another chance with a new baby, another boy. Sometimes, there is guilt mixed in with our joy. Such happiness to experience life with a son - while continuing to grieve the loss of our first son, always.

But, I remind Erik that although our new baby is coming - he won't be a baby forever.

Yet Sawyer, always will be.

It's a boy

2011-03-29T18:14:00.001-07:00

I was wrong, and that's okay!

Breaking down the moment

2011-03-23T18:43:00.001-07:00

A friend sent me some great things for the new baby a few days ago and I finally got around to putting them all away today. While I was making room in a cupboard for everything, Sadie asked me if this was all for the new baby.

I happily told her "Yes, it is!"

"Mama?" She replied. "Is this baby going to die too?"

Instant falling. My knees felt like they were cut off. I sat there on the kitchen floor, surrounded by diaper boxes and baby bottles - and I had no answer.

Tears. Too many. Flowing quickly, the same path down my face. Like a river.

At that exact moment my friend rang the doorbell. Shit. I forgot she was coming right over. I was so embarrassed, but there was no way I could not cry. There was no way I could pretend like things were okay - and that's sort of how it's been for a while now. I've been pretending so that other people can feel better.

"Yes our baby died, but we're expecting again!"

I've said that too many times. There. Feel better? No uncomfortable silence. Instead, a happy "Congrats!" and we're moving on.

But, my baby is dead. And it's an unrelentless circle of grief. And it sucks. Up and down. Up and down. Happy and sad. Laughter and tears.

I am thankful that my friend was here though. Thankful for the hugs and the comfort.

I called my mom immediately. I was on the verge on completely losing my mind. And for those of you who never have lost your mind? Thank God for that.

My mom put it perfectly. My oldest brother was Sadie's age when her baby died. She told me that all Sadie knows is this. She sees you preparing for this baby, just like we did with Sawyer and all she knows is that Sawyer died. And that's just how it is.

And she's right. That is how it just "is." Children accept things so much differently than we do. It's a miracle to be so innocent and a very touching gift from God if you ask me.

So, in light of my near-breakdown - I'm thankful. For a friend like Carrie. For the wonderful support of my mother when these moments hit. For all of you, who care about me and my little family. Thank you.

Pickles kicks

2011-03-14T21:42:00.000-07:00

Just don't want to forget, so I had to write this.

We could see Baby Pickles kicking a lot tonight on my stomach for the first time.

This baby kicks so much.

Sawyer's Tulips

2011-03-07T20:02:00.000-08:00

Standing over Sawyer's grave today, I still feel like I just had the wind knocked out of me. That I'm still trying to catch my breath.

A new baby kicks inside of me and here I am, standing over the grave of the child that I had to let go. I sometimes feel like a statue. Frozen in the moment, nothing moves except the wind through my hair and the tears down my face.

Sawyer's tulips are already coming up. I bought some potted tulips last Easter when I was pregnant with him. When they died, I made sure to dig out the bulbs and save them - we planted them at his grave last fall. I bet they'll be blooming for him again by Easter.

Holding on to what I have

2011-03-06T13:20:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was a particularly hard one for me and Erik.

I'm not sure why. It wasn't a significant date and there was no specific reason. The sadness just hung over us.

I could hear Erik in the kitchen late last night, humming a song that we both sang to Sawyer as he died - "You Are My Sunshine" - and he had a chair turned, facing out the window. He was looking at Sawyer's angel turning colors in the dark. I don't know if he knew that I could hear him, but I did. And I left him alone. You learn that about grief. That your spouse sometimes, needs that space to just be. And you grow together in learning how it all works. We grieve so differently, and at other times - we're right in sync with each other.

I crawled into Sadie's bed in the middle of the night. I needed to feel her against me. Know that she was safe and warm. I do that a lot. I can feel my broken heart pounding inside of me so powerfully when I do this...

Because when I yearn for Sawyer, there's nothing to hold against my chest. No cheek to stroke or hair to smooth.

I hold Sadie and I'm grateful. And I pray that nothing ever takes her away from me.

The sun is out today and we didn't talk about anything last night. The mood is softer, Sadie makes us laugh. And a new baby is persistantly kicking me all day long.

The hope mixed with the grief. The love pouring out over the loss.
Posted

Walking a fine line

2011-03-04T21:14:00.000-08:00

It is so hard to balance joy with grief...

Hope with sorrow.

Prediction

2011-02-28T05:23:00.000-08:00

With Sadie and Sawyer I always wrote a little blog before heading off to the 20-week ultrasound predicting the sex of the baby. I've been right every time so far, which makes me think I'm due to be wrong for once. Which would be okay with me.

Honestly, the sex doesn't matter to us in any way, whatsoever.

The 20-week ultrasound now represents the health of this baby and of the pregnancy and we are hoping and praying for good, no - great news all around.

The echo of the baby's heart that we had 10 days ago was promising, so although we are very cautious - our hopes are high.

Oh and for the record...

I think it's a girl.

Groundhog's Day Blizzard 2011

2011-02-02T15:29:00.000-08:00

These pictures are in chronological order from Monday, January 31st to Wednesday, February 2nd, 2011. All pictures taken in Channahon, IL 50 miles southwest of Chicago.

The bitter pill

2011-02-02T07:34:00.000-08:00

*NEWSFLASH*

Of course I'm happy about our new baby. No shit.

But to say that the happiness isn't constantly interrupted by thoughts of gloom and doom isn't so far off either. Every day I'm grateful and every single minute I'm cautiously optimistic.

It's a horrible feeling to sit through your pregnancy and wonder if you're baby is going to die again. It's a form of suffering that is almost unbearable, until you feel a tiny poke from that miracle growing inside of you. It's a constant emotional battle with myself.

It's been eight months since I last held Sawyer in my arms. Eight months since I had to hand off my only son to a total stranger carrying a little black coffin.

Yeah, sure.

Eight months. But that's not anything. It's a blip in the timeline of my grief.

And guess what?

I'm bitter. I'm pissed off.

You would be too if you were completely screwed out of a lifetime of kisses, midnight feedings or the sweet smell of a newborn's head. And then I see everyone bitching constantly about the woes of parenthood, their jobs and life in general. I literally can't stand it anymore.

So in my bitterness I've sort of resorted to this smart-ass mentality. And that's how I'm dealing with things - I make no apologies for it.

If that's a problem for you - you have some choices.

You can ignore me, bear with me, try to understand or leave me alone.

This isn't easy for me. And I am trying so hard to just try.

Funtime Friday

2011-01-28T11:32:00.000-08:00

Why, hello there...

2011-01-25T07:05:00.000-08:00

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

2011-01-20T21:45:00.001-08:00

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...

2011-01-20T08:04:00.000-08:00

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

2011-01-19T20:50:00.001-08:00

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

2011-01-17T16:09:00.001-08:00

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

2011-01-15T17:54:00.000-08:00

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

2011-01-07T06:40:00.000-08:00

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

2011-01-06T19:46:00.001-08:00

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

2011-01-03T21:00:00.000-08:00

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

2011-01-03T20:00:00.000-08:00

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.

2010 Year in Pictures

2010-12-31T18:33:00.000-08:00

Be gentle

2010-12-17T06:42:00.001-08:00

Life lately has seemed like anything but.

The days are short and dark. And a depression like I've never experienced has taken ahold of me with a firm grip.

Maybe it's the holiday music. The twinkling lights that remind me of what life used to be like - what life should be like.

It would be nice for a moment to step out of this skin and go back to before the nightmare. To the time when I knew bad things happened, but not to me.

I wish that a lot when I'm sad.

Going back would mean back to the person I used to be and I'm not sure that's what I want. I hated the "new" me after Sawyer died, but now I'm really beginning to embrace and love who I've become.

Sawyer taught me not to fret over the little things. Not to be afraid to love with all of my heart - even if it hurts more than a thousand knives in my chest. He taught all of us to be kind and to realize that you can never judge a book by its cover, because you never know the battle a person is facing at any given time. He has taught us so much about compassion and how to go about life in a gentle way.

I have to remind myself of this when I want to go back. And remember the things that Sawyer's incredibly short life that have shined through in all the darkness.

How dreary would be the world if there was no Santa Claus!

2010-12-09T10:42:00.000-08:00

TFB posted a blog today all about the topic of honesty with her children. Somehow she tied in the truth about childbirth and the existence Santa all into one, long-winded post.

Found here http://thefeministbreeder.com/on-being-honest-with-our-children/

She told her four-year-old son during lunch that Santa isn't real. Her number one reason why?

"We work our butts off to afford a few special presents for the kids, and I’m not about to let some imaginary man take credit for it."

Yeah. That's the spirit of the holiday season. Getting credit for doing something good. Which is the only reason why ANYONE should do something for someone else. Just to take credit for it themselves. Rolling up selfless and selfish all into a complete package.

I guess she should also tell them to abandon all hope of good things. To throw their imaginations out the window. That the true meaning of Christmas and goodness can't possibly be found in the jolly, round man with the big, white beard.

In this moment, I'm instantly be reminded of the editorial response to a letter from a little girl named Virginia, written over 100 years ago. Words that speak volumes. Words that speak from the heart.

"DEAR EDITOR: I am 8 years old.
"Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.
"Papa says, 'If you see it in THE SUN it's so.'
"Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?

"VIRGINIA O'HANLON.
"115 WEST NINETY-FIFTH STREET."

VIRGINIA, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except [what] they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.

Yes, VIRGINIA, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no VIRGINIAS. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.

Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.

You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, VIRGINIA, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.

No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.

*I'm sure the haters are ready to pounce - Go ahead. I'll be taking a nap while you're all whipped up into a frenzy over this one.

My daughter, the actress

2010-12-07T10:24:00.001-08:00

Stupid ass

2010-11-30T07:47:00.001-08:00

Sadie and Lucy (our beloved kitty cat) have a love-hate relationship. Sadie loves Lucy. Lucy hates Sadie. That's about as in-depth as it gets.

Sadie crawled into bed with us last night and when Erik leaves for work in the morning he's supposed to put Lucy downstairs so that she won't wake us up (Lucy is an attention whore).

He forgot today and right on the dot at 6 a.m. Lucy is banging on the door and meowing like crazy.

I was still half asleep but Sadie rolls over and starts hitting me in the head.

"Wake up Mommy!"

"It's not time to wake up Sadie."

"Is that Lucy Mommy?"

"Yeah...Go back to sleep Sadie."

"Lucy is a stupid ass!"

Can't argue with her on that one can I?

Surprise blessing

2010-11-26T21:42:00.001-08:00

We went to the cemetery yesterday after dinner and while there, I met the mother of the twins who are buried next to Sawyer.

It was very cold and I had my winter coat on, hood up - facing opposite the wind - so I had no idea that this woman was standing right next to me as I wept and talked to my son.

I turned around and was surprised to see someone there.

She smiled, opened her arms and held me as I cried. We shared our stories and in that moment, I didn't feel the wind or the cold. Just a warmth over my heart that I haven't felt in a really long time.

Erik said as the two of us were hugging each other, the hawk - which we hadn't seen since the end of the summer - lept off the branch of a dead tree and soared over us as the sun set in the cold, November sky.

Dare I say it?

2010-11-23T10:00:00.000-08:00

I'm 99.9% sure that Sadie is potty trained. She wears underwear, goes on the potty all the time and has minimal accidents.

She's only 2 1/2! How did this awesomeness happen?!

My only advice for other potty training parents - Bring out the potty. Show it to them, encourage them. But if they fight it, don't push it. Sadie was just ready one day and that's good enough for me.

I'm so proud of Mammers!

This moment

2010-11-19T12:04:00.001-08:00

I'm in a sad place and I really shouldn't be, but how can I not be?

Maybe, someday.

2010-11-16T13:48:00.000-08:00

You know what would be amazing?

To give birth and not have anything go wrong.

To see my baby right away.

To actuaully hold my child.

But best of all, would be to have a baby who wasn't sick. Who didn't have to suffer. Who only felt love in their mother's arms.

The guestbook

2010-11-13T21:30:00.000-08:00

I visited Sawyer's CaringBridge page tonight for the first time in months. I never read any of the comments after he died. I looked at them. I never actually read them, until tonight.

http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/sawyerwilliams

Nothing seems real to me anymore.

He hardly had a chance. We hardly had any hope.

Potty Particulars

2010-11-12T20:16:00.000-08:00

When Sadie poops, she doesn't want anyone to see her - so this is what she does. Seriously.

Best day...

2010-11-11T20:29:00.000-08:00

I can honestly say today was the best day I've had with Sadie since her brother passed away nearly six months ago. We snuggled, played. We enjoyed this unseasonably warm November weather all day long.

This morning we went for a long walk and ended up at one of the ponds in our neighborhood. Sadie sat down next to me along the edge of the water and we threw rocks and watched the ripples in the warm morning sun for almost an hour. Then we played at the park and I swear I pushed her in the swing for a good thirty minutes before she wanted off. We really enjoyed it.

She's getting so big too.

Over the weekend I decided that she was done with her binky (or a dee-dah as she calls it) and she has done surprisingly well. This is the same kid who screams bloody murder for it on a regular basis. As a reward, we bought her a fun flashlight just for bedtime.

And over the past few weeks I've felt strong enought to finally tackle potty training with her and be consistent. Today, she had on her underwear all afternoon and up until bedtime and didn't have any accidents! She went on the potty four times and came and told me each time she did.

I know it's all such little stuff, but it's the little stuff that makes me so proud and grateful that I am her mother.

Toddler Talk with Sadie

2010-11-03T13:27:00.001-07:00

While pointing to my peach-colored pedicure, "I love your finger snails Mommy."

Laughed for a solid five minutes after that one.

Sawyer's treat

2010-10-31T20:34:00.001-07:00

Sawyer gave us a treat when we went to visit him today. His headstone was finally placed. Happy Halloween to my little pumpkin - we miss you.

My TTC adventure. If you want to call it that.

2010-10-30T08:21:00.000-07:00

Another failed cycle.

Of course it wouldn't be easy this time. Why would I expect anything else?

And I'll cry...

2010-10-28T20:57:00.000-07:00

Today is my birthday.

And please note, for all the haters out there, this is not a pity party. But, it is my party and I'll cry if I want to.

It's another "milestone" I suppose that one has to hit after you lose a child. There are a lot of them. Things you'd never think about twice. The next one I'm dreading? The day we found out that a new baby was on his way. After that? The holidays.

I tried to forget.

Today is the day I was born. My Mom told the story tonight. The day before my birthday it was a gorgeous late-fall day. So perfect in fact that she scrubbed the floors, stripped all the beds, hung sheets outside on the line - all while she was nine months pregnant with me.

Exhausted from a busy day, Dad thought it would be nice to take her out to dinner. When she finally went to bed late that night and just started drifting off to sleep, I let her know that I was coming. And fast.

Out of her six children, I was the quickest delivery.

I can only imagine what that must be like. Going into labor at the right time, a vaginal birth, holding your baby. I have two children, and I've never had any of that.

Sadie never felt my skin against hers until she was six days old. Intubated and taken away from me was one of the most traumatic experiences I have ever gone through in my life. I think because she was our first, we had much higher expectations. Her birth was sad. The days following were devastating. We thought we were going to lose her. I hated seeing my baby in such pain. It broke my heart. I felt so helpless.

When I got pregnant with Sawyer, we were so hopeful. Things were going to be different, we always kept telling ourselves. And they were.

My water breaks at 28 weeks. Placental abruption. Emergency c-section.

"Your baby is very, very sick."

"There's only so much we can do."

And not even two days later, he died.

After I put Sadie down for a nap, I crawled into bed, engulfed by all of this. And I wept. For all the sadness. No balloons or flowers. No happy visitors. No baby nursing at my breast. Just empty, hollow sadness.

I don't cry for myself. I cry for my babies. You can tell me over and over again that Sadie won't ever remember and that Sawyer is in a better place - but why my babies?

Questions I will never have the answers to. But, I need to trust. And know, even through gritted teeth, that God is good. God is good.

I just want him

2010-10-26T18:50:00.000-07:00

There are moments now where things are okay. Not good, but okay.

And I'll take okay any day.

Except, lately, okay has eluded me. Maybe it's the falling leaves or the changing of the seasons. Maybe it was going to the pumpkin patch and knowing how I imagined in my head how that day was supposed to be. Sadie running through the patch with Erik chasing after her. Me with Sawyer, all dressed up in his little pumpkin outfit I had washed, ironed and hung up in Sadie's closet - along with all of his nice clothes.

When we came home after Sawyer was buried, I asked Erik to bring up all the empty baby boxes from downstairs. I never thought that so soon after emptying them, we'd be filling them up all over again. Clothes he'll never wear. Hats that will never keep his little head warm. Socks for his tiny, perfect toes.

I imagined this winter to be a busy one. But, in a good way. Instead of being cooped up inside the house as the cold winds howled, Sadie would be the dutiful big sister. Helping Mommy in so many ways. All of us, laying on the floor - playing with our new baby.

And now what? I have nothing.

No baby. No clothes. No toys. No swing. No crib. No bassinet.

The grief, it creeps back in so heavy and you never expect it. You think time will make it better. So far, time has done nothing but mess with my head.

December is coming. The day we found out we were expecting.

Then, the day we found out we were having a boy.

The day there was something wrong.

The day he died.

At night, I pray. I thank God for what I have and what I had. I pray to Sawyer and ask him if it's okay if we had a new baby. I worry that people would think that we were replacing him. Because nothing in the entire world could ever take the place of our sweet, precious Sawyer.

My birthday is coming up in a few days. I don't want to be happy. I don't want "happy birthdays" thrown my way. I just want him.

"There is no footprint too small..."

2010-10-23T08:34:00.000-07:00

Regrets

2010-10-19T20:04:00.000-07:00

Yesterday brought it all back.

Same place, same room. We went over everything all over again.

In my surgical report? Horrible, awful things no mother should ever have to read - "Infant boy taken to ICN. Subsuquently expired."

Anyone else want to throw up with me?

His name is Sawyer. He's a beautiful baby. He died in my arms. He didn't "expire." I just hate so much of it.

We were driving home tonight, all of us in the car. Something hit me. I don't know what. Maybe it was the way the clouds were drifting over the moon. Maybe it was the song on the radio. Maybe it was knowing that there should be four of us in the car. Not three.

I started to cry. I didn't want to let him go. When he died, holding him was okay. My baby was gone from this world, beautifully welcomed into the next - and I was okay. Because I had him nestled against my breasts, covered by his blanket and then wrapped tightly into my robe. I wanted to keep him warm.

Everything was okay. I had him.

Then the man from the funeral home came. And it wasn't okay.

We stood up, I told Erik I didn't want to let him go. Please don't make me do this God. Don't make me let him go.

And the man opened up a black case. Set it on a chair near the window, the sunlight pouring in.

If this was a different world, a different place - I would never have done it. I regret not asking to hold him at the funeral home. Why didn't I ask to hold him again?

My son is gone. He's gone every moment. Every aching second.

I found out yesterday that I had lost a lot of blood. And I mean, a lot. Is that why I was blanketed in God's grace?

Why didn't you take me too?

Postpartum

2010-10-18T19:41:00.000-07:00

Conference with my doctors today.

Same place he was born.

Same place he died.

It is so hard. Relived every single moment of that delivery. Every one. We went over all the reports. Figured out some things...

I lost over 800 cc's of blood. That's a lot. I had a transfusion. Didn't know that either.

Pathology on the placenta showed nothing wrong - a few small clots. But during the csection, a large pooling of blood and a large clot were noted in the uterus - that's what caused the abruption.

Why? No idea.

Will it happen again? No idea.

I have Protein S deficiency. Yippee.

We know - and this breaks my heart for a million different reasons - that into the final moments before he was born, Sawyer was perfect. Heart rate was great, he scored 8 out of 8 on his last BPP. He had no idea what was coming. He was happy, he was warm and loved - and then he was born. I can't imagine how they got him out of there. It makes me sick to think about it.

He had IUGR - so small and tiny. Of course, we don't have an answer.

We got the go-ahead to TTC. I'm scared.

Life for Erik and I has been one giant shit-storm after another. I would like to think that things can't get worse, but how can I anymore?

I'm trying to put this worry and anxiety into God's hands - because if there is something wrong again - really, what can I do?

The same thing I did before I guess. Pray, hope, love, lose, die, cry.

A Walk To Remember 2010

2010-10-17T08:38:00.000-07:00

Today was moving, powerful and beautiful.

Over 150 people came out to support our first annual "A Walk To Remember" in honor of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month.

The idea to start a walk sprouted up just two months ago when we learned there were no events locally to remember our babies. Erik came home from work that night and I told him, "I want to do this. I want to do it for Sawyer and I want to do it for every other parent who has lost a baby."

Less than 24 hours later, we booked a site for the walk and the next two months we poured our blood, sweat and LOTS of tears into making this day a success.

By our early calculations, we have raised well over $3,000 for Angels of Hope - NFP, Inc. This local non-profit organization supports bereaved families, assists parents who can't afford burial costs for their children and provides funding toward families who are in need of IVF treatment but cannot afford the cost. We are so happy to say that our goal of raising $1,000 was met and exceeded beyond our expectations!

This morning as we began to load our vehicles, Erik and I were standing in the driveway when a giant red-tailed hawk swooped down so low you could see his face. He gracefully soared right through our front yard, over our heads and then down the street. I never in my life have seen a hawk fly so low to the ground like that. There is no doubt in my mind that it was Sawyer's way of saying hello to us and he continued to visit us throughout the day.

We had such amazing success with our silent auction and raffle. T-shirt sales were through the roof and the kids loved painting pumpkins, hopping around in the inflatable jumper, face painting and LOTS of cupcakes.

The weather was breezy, warm and beautiful. As we neared the end of our walk the sun began to dip lower in the sky - warm, bright rays shooting out from behind the clouds. It was breathtaking.

We had a remembrance table upon the top of a hill, decorated with little pumpkins and gourds - where each family placed a flower when their baby's name was called. After the walk was over, Erik and I took all of the flowers, gently placing them in the river behind the pavillion and watched them slowly drift away with the current.

I am so thankful to our many friends and family who came out today to help - sisters, cousins, friends, family and neighbors. To our walk committee who has been working so hard to get this walk accomplished in such a short amount of time - We thank you so graciously.

To my friend Carrie - without you I couldn't have done any of this. She was my never-ending support and friend during the entire planning process. I always say she was the last one to hug our "lil Sawyer" when we were rushing off to the hospital at 4 a.m. the day he was born. Again Carrie, thank you from the bottom of our hearts.

To my husband, Erik. I never could have accomplished this without your support and constant love.

To all of you - the mothers and fathers of our angels and their sisters, brothers, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and friends - Thank you for making today so beautiful.

And to my Sawyer - we love you so much and your short, beautiful life has touched so many. Today we were able to share in our grief and grow from the love you have shown us. Your spirit keeps us going. We miss you. We love you.

Mini me

2010-10-13T08:12:00.001-07:00

Everyone says that Sadie looks like Erik. I beg to differ.

Hard, happy

2010-10-10T08:25:00.001-07:00

I took Sadie to "Yo Gabba Gabba Live" yesterday with a friend.

It was honestly one of the first times since Sawyer died, that I actually enjoyed myself.

Hard - lots of pregnant moms, infants. Families with a son and a daughter.

Happy - watching Sadie dance and be her typical two-year-old self. Me, smiling and singing.

Bully behavior

2010-10-07T06:15:00.001-07:00

Normally, I don't get this fired up.

Normally, I don't "like" groups on facebook only to disagree passionately with everything that they have to say.

Normally, I let someone else fight their own battles.

But last night, after witnessing some of the most atrocious, vile behavior I have ever seen in my life - I couldn't sit quietly in the corner. I had to stand up. And I wasn't alone.

A mother, Jill Haskins, lost her beautiful baby Joshua early yesterday morning. His perfect, broken heart worked as hard as it could, but after a long fight his tiny body succumbed to a CHD - Hypoplastic-Left Heart Syndrome.

And now, he is resting in the arms of Jesus. Everyone in the CHD community followed Joshua's story. He and his mother are an inspiration to so many. His loss is so great. And this week especially, after so much loss - while still coming to terms with the death of my own son - has been extremely difficult to comprehend.

Within hours of her son's death, Jill's blog, facebook page, email account and Joshua's caringbridge page came under attack by "intactivists" who full believe that her son's death was the result of his circumcision - you know, not the fact that he was born with half a heart.

Even more disgusting was a certain blogger condoning this type of behavior while just a few weeks earlier - this exact same blogger sent her followers over to this very spot where a relentless attack on me began and continued for weeks.

Is there some sort of movement going on that I don't know about? Is ganging up on the bereaved mother considered some sort of easy attack because maybe she won't stand up to your antics in her time of great sorrow? Maybe she'll take it and you'll get your point across while getting your name out there? No matter what the reason, it's nothing short of the most juvenile, disgusting behavior I have ever seen as a mother in my entire life.

Jill, you are in the hearts and prayers of so many.

The little things

2010-10-06T12:01:00.001-07:00

It's fall and it's beautiful.

Thanking God for today, my husband, my daughter and my son.

Perspective

2010-10-05T21:07:00.000-07:00

I remember when I gave a shit. When I woke up happy.

When things were "normal" and I didn't cry every.single.day.

How did any of this happen? How can it be four months? It's so fucked up.

I took Sadie to the park today. "Is she your only child?"

What do I say? No. Yes. Sort-of?

I say the truth - I have a son. Not had a son.

2010-10-03T21:20:00.001-07:00

People think I'm so strong.

I'm so not.

No reason

2010-09-22T22:58:00.001-07:00

Tonight's one of those nights where everything is coming at me, all at once.

I can't write about this on Sawyer's blog, it's all too sad. Does that even make any sense, "it's all too sad" to write about it on my dead son's blog?

It's almost been four months. Four of the fastest and slowest days, hours, minutes and seconds of my entire life. I feel like it won't get better ever. Then I feel okay. But when it's bad, it's so very bad. Down into the deepest depths of sadness.

Nothing I could ever do can ever bring him back.

A million tears. Nothing.

Memories are starting to fade and I hate that.

I have the little hat he wore. Two little blue socks. A small bottle of baby lotion. The shampoo we used to bathe him the first and only time. I take it out sometimes and I smell it and I cry. He has one blanket. It doesn't even smell like him anymore and that makes me want to die a thousand times. He is slipping farther away from me. The time between then and now is growing too big. The gap too painful to bear.

I am angry. I hadn't been for a long time, but now I am. I wake up numb. I can't feel my fingers or my toes. My face tingles and I have no idea why. It's just how it is.

And that's what I hate, how this all is.

I hate the beautiful days, because without him here it all seems like such a waste.

I hate the rainy days, because it makes the pain more raw.

I hate seeing Sadie alone. She is not supposed to be alone. She is a big sister. She has a beautiful brother that she will never know and it is so unfair.

I hate not understanding any of this. There is no good reason that Sawyer was taken from my arms and there never will be.

Ewan and Joshua

2010-09-21T21:25:00.001-07:00

Two mothers - Are going through hell. I don't even know these two women, yet I really do know them and what they're going through.

One has no idea whether or not her son will survive the night...

The other is learning what it's like to leave your baby, alone. In the NICU.

Two little baby boys. Ewan and Joshua. They need so many prayers. And the mothers, they need them too.

CHD's are hell.

But, there are a few out there who are working so hard in their baby's memory. Becuase all they have to hold on to are the memories. And all they want, is to give every mother memories that last longer than the short lives of too many of our heart babies.

Tonight, pray for these two babies. Pray for their parents. Pray for their siblings. Pray for their families.

Garage Sale - can you help?

2010-09-21T06:02:00.000-07:00

Hello to all of my faithful followers. I will be having a garage sale at my home on October 1st anad 2nd in an effort to raise funds for our walk on October 16th. We are in need of ANY donations for the sale and you can drop them off at my house anytime. I live in Channahon and can pick up things if you don't live too far either.

We are having huge problems with t-shirt vendors, food, etc., so this sale is hopefully going to raise enough money to cover a lot of those costs. If you have an item to donate, please email me at mktarrant@gmail.com and we'll talk. Thank you!

We are now a "2 in 100" family

2010-09-15T05:59:00.001-07:00

For those outside the loop, the term "1 in 100" refers to the alarming rate of congenital heart defects among children. 1 in 100 babies are born every day with a CHD. And now, we are a 2 in 100 family.

Yesterday, Sadie was taken to the cardiologist after suggestion from Sawyer's neonatologist from the University of Chicago. We were told that CHD's tend to group themselves in families (sometimes) and that it might not be a bad idea to get Sadie's heart checked out.

When she was 6 weeks old, she was diagnosed with a heart murmur, but we had it checked out and were told it was an "innocent murmur." Apparently, if it persisted we were supposed to follow up. The message was never received on this end. Which infuriates me.

Long story short, Sadie still has a murmur and after an EKG and ECHO of her heart she was diagnosed with a PDA (patent ductus arteriosus) and Pulmonary Stenosis (a narrowing of the pulmonary artery).

Tomorrow we see a pediatric cardiologist at Christ Hospital in Oak Lawn and from there, schedule her surgery to fix the PDA.

At this point, I'm thanking God that this is a very fixable situation. At the same time, as a mother, I can only wonder "why my babies?" I know Sadie's little brother is looking out for her though. Because if Sawyer was never in our lives, we would never know about Sadie's heart.

CHD statistics are alarming and many do not realize that research for CHD's is one of the most underfunded. More children and infants die every day from a CHD than from all childhood cancers combined. Those are numbers that you can't argue with. And numbers that prove we have a lot of work to do, and a long way to go.

One person

2010-09-09T22:34:00.000-07:00

I'm sad. Sad for myself. Sad for my family.

And sad for all my friends who are working so hard to tell their story. Sharing the most intimate details of their loss and sharing their hope for change only to be ignored, written off.

I want them to know that I'm here. I'm listening. A lot of us are. Reaching one person, just one - saving ONE person that heartache, the grief - is all worth it.

September 1st, 2010 - Three months

2010-09-01T15:02:00.000-07:00

How did three months go by so fast, and at the same time, so agonizingly slow?

Summer is a time when life is thriving and all we've had have been dark clouds floating over our heads. A tiny flame blown out too soon.

First, we learned it was okay to smile and then to laugh. We've been able to appreciate the miracle that is Sadie more and more as each day has passed.

We learned that there is no such thing as closure and that hanging white sheets over a bassinet and crib do not erase the events that led us to today.

We know that grief is out of our hands. It comes in waves and drags back out to sea our tears and pain like grains of sand.

I've had to watch my daughter slowly come to realize that her brother isn't coming home. I've comforted her in the night, when she wakes up in tears asking for her beloved Sawyer.

I have watched my husband stand so strong, going back to work so soon after - only to have the grief sneak up and rest itself on his broad shoulders. I have comforted him when I hear his quiet weeping coming from our bedroom in the darkness of night.

With the bad, surprisingly, comes the good.

Every day we hear a friend tell us of a butterfly or a rainbow, a hawk soaring in the sky or a beautiful sunset and how the moment spoke to them - Sawyer's spirit is everywhere.

I have discovered new friendships that will never die. Women with who I can be so painfully honest. Women that share my pain. Women that have loved and lost - and continue to love in the face of adversity.

Sawyer's time on earth was too brief. That time, however, is out of our hands. Where he left off, we have begun to pick up the pieces of our broken hearts and started our journey down a road dimly lit by the light of hope.

We love you, our sweet angel.

Sawyer's Heart blog

2010-08-31T14:47:00.000-07:00

For all that have been asking, you can read and learn more about Sawyer and his impact on all of us here:

http://sawyersheart.blogspot.com

xoxo

The long nights, sad days

2010-08-30T21:24:00.000-07:00

Dear Sawyer

I totally screwed up today. I let someone get the best of me. I let my overwhelming grief and yearning for you result in an angry tirade.

I never meant to hurt anyone. I was just upset that another mother could ever hate her beautiful child.

I think about you alone in your coffin. I know it is just your body but I worry about the winter. I worry about how cold it will get and if you'll be warm enough. The urge to hold you in my arms and just for one second look into your eyes will overwhelm me as long as my heart continues to beat.

And yet, others get to hate. How is any of this remotely fair?

Life is going on, I am still alive. It should have been me. Why God wasn't it me?

They say when the moment comes to ask these questions, that the answers won't matter. But, it's the waiting for that moment that is slowly eating away at my insides.

I love you. Every night I pray to you, do you hear me? I've fallen so far down the past few weeks. Looking toward your spirit for hope.

I love you.

People I want to punch in the face (continued)

2010-08-29T07:48:00.001-07:00

The Feminist Breeder has two boys. She's pregnant with #3. One recent morning, her son knocked her right between the eyes (accidentally). And she blogged that she - at that exact moment - had a "pure, unadulterated hatred" toward him.

Too bad her other son couldn't punch her in the face for me too.

htp://thefeministbreeder.com/darkness-falls-across-the-land

***I really wouldn't punch anyone in the face. This is just an ongoing series featuring "JAMS" that sometimes need to know that a punch in the face can be an awakening.***

Supposed to be...........

2010-08-27T05:51:00.000-07:00

didn't sleep at all last night.

i kept thinking about sawyer and the first time i was able to see him. how soft he felt, and i kept talking to him over and over (in that sing-song voice only a mother can do) so that he knew it was me.

"sawyer? it's me, mommy. it's mommy. i love you sawyer."

i dont even know if he heard me, because of all the drugs. i don't even know what color his eyes were. and i had hope, for about what? 8 hours??

he's supposed to be here, he's supposed to be here - that's all i think about.

Really?

2010-08-26T10:04:00.000-07:00

Is kind of shocked that the lady from the March of Dimes office told me that Sawyer died because "everything happens for a reason."

And then threw in a "stop crying" while handing me a preemie diaper and a bag of rice that weighed as much as Sawyer to put on display for our walk.

Seriously.

The lady from the MARCH OF DIMES office.

Definitely adding that one to my list of "People That Need A Punch In The Face."

Gone fishing

2010-08-21T18:36:00.000-07:00

We've been really sad the past week or two. Erik and I know Sawyer's due date is looming and I think we both need it to come, and quietly go. With every important date or anniversary, there is anticipation now. You think it will be better once it's over. It's not.

Today, we finally were able to drag ourselves out of the house for Sadie's sake and made a pretty good day out of it.

Went to the pool, had a nice dinner. Then we went on a bike ride and went fishing for the first time since the summer before Sadie was born. It was simple, and most of all, it was safe.

There are so many people who assume they know what's best for me. I know where I need to be and I'm very aware of the places that I shouldn't.

I know there are a lot of people who want me to be happy. Want me to smile without feeling guilty. Guess what? SO WOULD I.

But that's the thing about grief. You have absolutely no control over it. It's an ocean of waves that ebb in and out. And you are held prisoner to what wave decides to sweep itself ashore from one day to the next. Some are big, and some are small - but every single day for the rest of my life - I know that the waves will be lapping against the shore. Always present, and a permanent part of me.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, I caught a lot of fish along the shore tonight.

My Mammers

2010-08-11T06:22:00.000-07:00

I haven't taken the time to write about Sadie much since everything happened. She's growing by leaps and bounds - talking in sentences, not just scattered words. She can recognize her own name in print, loves to show her creative and artistic side and is gifted with music.

Since Sawyer passed away, I've had a very short fuse with Mammers and I feel terribly guilty about it. She deserves a better mommy right now, not the scatter-brained zombie that I've turned into.

She's taken everything quite well. With a few exceptions, I really feel that she truly understands that Sawyer is not coming home. For a while there, she thought he just wasn't here - but would be home soon. That was hard.

One of her favorite things to do this summer is swim. When we put her "floaties" on her arms, *OMG* she completely turns into a little fish! She doesn't want anyone's help and swims on her own in Grandpa's pool. She can even hold her breath and go under the water. And she's only two and a half!

Speaking of her age. She's halfway to three years old and nothing like the baby I once knew. She is a little girl. Obsessed with playing dishes and watching "Prin-shesh" movies. She is blossoming right before my eyes - and I've missed a lot of it. I literally woke up one morning and was amazed at her growth and transformation.

She plays so well. Her little imaginative mind races when she plays with her dollhouse and toys. She builds castles with her blocks and feeds her stuffed kitty with our real cat's food.

When we are out in public and she plays on the playground or in a playroom at the store - I get so sad, so quickly. She is alone and she shouldn't be. She is a big sister to her father and I, but to passerby, she's an only child. And that makes my heart heavy. I pray to God that someday, he will bless us with another brother or sister for Sadie. Erik and I grew up surrounded by our siblings - and I only want the same for her.

So, in a nutshell, Mammers is turning into quite the little lady. And I'm proud of her in ways I never could have imagined before. Now, if we could just get that potty thing down...

NEW BLOG FOR SAWYER

2010-07-29T08:12:00.000-07:00

Can you please all follow me over to "Sawyer's Heart" a blog dedicated to Sawyer about infant loss, working through this journey called grief and more. Thank you all for following this blog, but I feel that it would be more appropriate to have my feelings about baby Sawyer all in one place. We also have a fan page on facebook now too. Hoping that we can gain some followers thru that too! Thank you always for the continued love and support! xoxo

http://sawyersheart.blogspot.com

Cry

2010-07-28T11:11:00.000-07:00

I've cried every day for eight weeks. It's not that I keep track, I just know there hasn't been one day that I haven't broke down. When did you have that first "tear-free" day? I want mine.

I hate this too Mammers

2010-07-27T13:40:00.000-07:00

I can really only bitch on here because if I do it in another public forum, I feel like everyone will think I'm this ungrateful mother who doesn't know how to count her blessings.

Mammers came down with (seriously) hand, food and mouth disease (HFMD). Holy shit, is it awful. She has, not sores or blisters, but ulcers all over the back of her throat. I can't get her to eat or drink and giving Sadie her medicine is a battle within itself.

Ever since she was an infant - and I swear it's because she was in the NICU - giving her meds has been painful and heartbreaking process for us both. She fights and I have to hold her arms down under a pillow, then with my one free hand hold her mouth open (forcefully) and shove medicine down her throat. I HATE IT. Giving her medicine is so impossible at most times that I've resorted to Tylenol suppositories in most cases.

Now that Sawyer's gone, she's all I've got. And I hate seeing her so sick. I know she's not going to die. She'll be okay in a few days - but it is so hard as a mother to see your child suffer. I don't care how old they are. It's the second-worst thing next to losing your child. Trust me, I would know. And I can say that now with the utmost confidence. But, I wish I didn't have to.

Eight more weeks

2010-07-25T10:14:00.001-07:00

On Tuesday, I would have been 36 weeks pregnant with Sawyer.

My doctor said she would have brought me in tomorrow to start an induction. I anguished over this day and that number for such a long time - even before Sawyer was born. Looking back on my blogs from May, my goal was to make it to 28 weeks. The actual day he came into the world.

I knew I was never going to make it this far. I talked to my nurse early last week and she said that she's "been doing this for 23 years, and there are the women we remember. The women like you who tell us the entire pregnancy that they know something is wrong. And they're always right."

I wish I realized it in my mind sooner. When I went to all those appointments week after week I would say the same thing over and over again - I didn't feel right.

I guess it wouldn't have mattered if Sawyer was born on June 1 or July 27 or August 24 (his actual due date). I know what the neonatologist said, "Even if he was full-term, the outcome may not have been much different."

But, to me the past eight weeks have been a blurry, painful nighmare. I could have had him eight more weeks. That would have been eight more weeks to get to know my baby. Eight more weeks to pinpoint what Sawyer's favorite food was. Eight more weeks that he would have felt my pure love and heard my heartbeat as we both waited, unknowingly, for the same end.

Sawyer's Angel Day

2010-07-21T19:43:00.000-07:00

Sawyer's Heart

2010-07-20T19:56:00.000-07:00

Today we met with Sawyer's neonatologist to get a better understanding on his short life and the heart defect that took our baby too soon.

A healthy heart has four chambers. Between two of those four chambers, the left and right ventricles, there is a wall that separates the blood. In Sawyer's heart there was a "large subaortic anteriorly malaligned VSD" - simply put - a large hole where there was supposed to be a wall.

The American Heart Association defines a VSD as "A ventricular septal defect (VSD) is a defect in the septum between the right and left ventricle. The septum is a wall that separates the heart’s left and right sides. Septal defects are sometimes called a “hole” in the heart. It’s the most common congenital heart defect in the newborn."

Sawyer's VSD, the doctor explained, was large (between 5.6 to 6.0 mm).

Healthy hearts also have two main arteries that take blood to different parts of the body. The aorta, which takes oxygen-rich blood to all parts of the body - and the pulmonary valve (which branches into two arteries), which carries oxygen-poor blood to the lungs to become oxygenated.

The doctor went on to explain that Sawyer had "Pulmonary Atresia" - sadly, this meant that his pulmonary artery/valve was completely missing.

The American Heart Association defines Pulmonary Atresia as "a congenital malformation of the pulmonary valve in which the valve orifice fails to develop. The valve is completely closed thereby obstructing the outflow of blood from the heart to the lungs."

To make up for this catostrophic defect, Sawyer's heart formed several small "MAPCA's" which are small arteries that develop to supply blood to the lungs when pulmonary circulation is underdeveloped (Pulmonary Atresia in Sawyer's case).

His official diagnosis was "Tetrology of Fallot (Pulmonary Atresia) Truncus Type IV". Again, here is a better definition to help you understand the severity of Sawyer's heart defects.

"Tetralogy of Fallot with pulmonary atresia is a severe variant in which there is complete obstruction (atresia) of the right ventricular outflow tract, causing an absence of the pulmonary trunk during embryonic development. In these individuals, blood shunts completely from the right ventricle to the left where it is pumped only through the aorta. The lungs are perfused via extensive collaterals from the systemic arteries, and sometimes also via the ductus arteriosus."

All of this put together, meant that Sawyer's little heart - as hard as it was working and even with the maximum amount of help that the doctors and nurses could give him - would never function well enough to survive. If he had been full-term, there may have been surgical options for him, but this would have been if he could ever have gotten stable enough to handle open-heart surgery - to which the neonatologist explained "the outcome may have not been much different."

Sawyer was a very sick baby. With his prematurity and heart condition combined, there weren't any options for our son.

Over the past few weeks, I have felt immense guilt over the choice that we made to take Sawyer off of life support. Today, his doctor explained to us that it was only a matter of time before his body gave out. They were doing everything possible to keep him stable, and even then - his stats continued to drop rapidly.

The doctor told us something today that I will never forget as a mother. She said "There was only so much we could do and what he really needed was you."

And that was it. Erik and I quietly cried as the realization of what happened to our baby boy was finally understood.

No parent should ever have to sit there and hear the things we were told today. It was painful and heartwrenching to fully understand and comprehend just how serious and fatal his congenital heart defect was.

Our journey is just beginning. And as we begin this walk down a new road in our lives, our hope is to honor Sawyer's memory by working to fund research on all congenital heart defects and premature birth.

Again, thank you all for the continued love, prayers and support. We need them now more than ever.

Love - Erik, Michelle and Sadie Williams

"I will always be there for you"

2010-07-18T20:49:00.000-07:00

I light a candle every night for you next to all of your beautiful pictures. I pray to you to come to my heart when I'm sad. I hope you aren't lonely, and know that I am a part of you and that I am always with you wherever you go.

I love you so much Sawyer that my arms hurt. They are so empty without you in them. My chest is so heavy with grief, that when I cry, it hurts. I can hardly catch my breath when I think of you, and that is almost always.

The little things remind me of you. I notice so much more than I ever did before. The dew twinkling on the grass in the morning sunlight, beautiful clouds floating across the horizon and all of the beautiful summer sunsets. Everywhere I look, I find beauty - and in that beauty - I see your face.

Your big sister asks about you a lot. I spend so much time wondering what the two of you would have been like together. It breaks my heart to see Sadie playing alone in the park or here at home. I know you're watching over her now - but my heart aches to know that the two of you would have been the best of friends.

Daddy thinks of you just as much as I do. He wanted to do so much with you - camping, fishing and cub scouts. He had so many hopes and dreams for your life. He wanted to be there for you because his dad wasn't there for him. He loves you so much Sawyer. When you died, he held you in his arms, looking out the big hospital windows - talking to you about the construction workers down below, singing "You Are My Sunshine" into your tiny ears.

Every day we go on. And it looks like everything is the same - yet everything is so different and so sad.

I am going to sleep now. I will close my eyes like I do every single night and pray to you, hoping for dreams together. Know that I will always be here for you Sawyer. I love you.

"No matter where or how far you wander - For a thousand years or longer - I will always be there for you - Right here with you."

Sawyer's fight

2010-07-18T08:15:00.000-07:00

When I was pregnant, Sawyer was sick.

I knew he was sick in my heart, but I think it took a while until it caught up to my head.

Right before we discovered that my amniotic fluid was low, I started to share with Erik my thoughts on Sawyer's movement. How he didn't move right. I know that every pregnancy is different, and that's what everyone kept telling me. Reassuring my frantic brain that Sawyer wasn't like his big sister.

I wasn't trying to scare Erik or myself, but something wasn't right. Even after my doctor told me he wouldn't move much with the low fluid, I knew he wasn't okay. He hardly kicked, and instead squirmed. That's the only way I can describe it.

Sawyer was breech the entire time too, always seeming to try and climb up as high as he could. I like to think that he was just trying to get close to my heart.

Some days, after I went on bedrest and was home all alone while Sadie was at my mom's house, I would wake up in a sweat. Sawyer wasn't moving. At all. I never told anyone about any of this. Not even Erik. I just didn't want people to think I was complaining or worrying about nothing because that's all I had time to do.

I would go straight to the kitchen and drink a tall glass of juice, that always got Sadie moving so fast it felt like she was dancing inside of me. And even after 20 or 30 minutes, still nothing from Sawyer. Then when I was about to think the worst, he would slide a leg or his arm across the front of my stomach. It almost felt like a wave to let me know he was okay.

The time when he would move the most was when I would take a bath. So I took them almost twice a day, every day. Just to be reassured that he was happy and healthy in there.

On May 27th, for the first time ever, he woke me up. It took me a few minutes to realize, that he had the hiccups! That was the first and last time Sawyer had them. I was so excited that I texted Erik to tell him. I felt - at that moment - that Sawyer might just be okay. And maybe it was just taking him longer to adjust to life inside of mommy.

Five days later - and after one trip to L&D triage because I just didn't "feel right," Sawyer was born. Not even a day and a half after his birth, Sawyer died in my arms.

People don't realize that Sawyer fought his entire life. The heart is formed within the first five weeks and it was then that Sawyer began his fight to survive. Knowing everything we know now, it's amazing to me that Sawyer lived as long as he did. And that he wasn't born until 28 weeks.

He held on. So tiny yet so strong.

Walking through a nightmare

2010-07-18T08:04:00.001-07:00

I swear to God, I've lost my mind.

Last week, Sadie and I took a nap together and the next thing I know, my neighbor is standing next to my bed, letting me know that "They found Sadie."

She wriggled out of my bed, opened my bedroom door then opened the sliding glass door and was found outside in the street. Yeah, you read that right. In the street.

I was so exhausted, so drained, so done with everything. I didn't even know she had snuck away. I didn't even hear the doorbell. Or hear my phone ringing - and it was right next to my head.

Taking care of Sadie, some tend to think, is a welcome distraction. It is in some ways, but most of the time, it isn't. Taking care of a two-year-old is nonstop. And when you have to put someone else ahead of yourself - you can't get better.

I feel like Erik's the lucky one. He gets to leave every day and go to work. He has three hours to himself on the train. I have no hours to myself. Ever.

Don't get me wrong, I don't want people to think I don't care about Sadie, because I do. But, I can't be the best mom for her when I'm a complete wreck. And that's an understatement.

I'm calling a counselor on Monday to set up my first appointment. I need this. I never thought I'd understand what it would be like to be insane. But I get it now. I know insanity.

My head and my heart are doing these things that I can't control. I'm alive - but the world is rushing right past me. And I'm left alone to walk through this nightmare.

My baby

2010-07-15T19:39:00.000-07:00

Last night, I couldn't sleep. Tuesday was a difficult day and the reality of what happened really didn't sink in until yesterday. My arms were heavy, aching for Sawyer. The massive migraine that I had the week Erik went back to work, suddenly came back with full force. I was instantly brought back to the pain I had felt nearly a month ago. One step forward, one hundred steps back.

I came to bed late. Erik was already asleep and I had just spent the last hour standing in front of Sawyer's pictures, crying. Searching for any sign that he was with me. Wanting him in a way only a mother who has lost a child can understand.

Feeling so overwhelmed with sadness, I crept into Sadie's room to hold her as she was sleeping. Stroking her cheek and laying my head on her chest. Listening to her heartbeat.

My headache at this point was at its worst, so I climbed into bed and asked Erik to get me a compress to alleviate the pain. When he came back, I lost it. I couldn't stop crying. Over and over again I kept saying "My baby, my baby..." and thru the tears I prayed to Sawyer. Sometime after that I fell asleep.

In the past few weeks I have made new friends. Mothers like me who have lost a baby. Friends that I am grateful for. Megan is one friend I have connected with very well. We both lost our babies around the same time and have found much comfort in knowing that we aren't alone in a world that seems to go on when we are so stuck in our suffering.

She sent me this today:

Everyday, I question myself of what heaven is like for children. My mom asked me the other day "do you think there is a playground in heaven?" I didn't respond as I only tried to imagine what it would look like. After she asked me that, I began thinking of who Wyatt would play with, and I thought about Sawyer and Whittney's son, Owen. All day on Tuesday, I continued to imagine the three of them hanging out together and playing on the playground of heaven.

All of this is probably why I dreamed what I did. But my dream was about this woman who came to visit (I never saw her face), but she had this little baby boy with her. He was in his car seat and she put him up on the counter so I could see him. The dream is basically a blur from there, but I remember this baby like it was real. The little boy was probably about 2 months old, he had a perfectly shaped head, and green eyes. I remember asking the mother if I could hold the child and she said I could. As I was picking him up out of the car seat, she told me his name was "Sawyer".

My baby.

Will I ever understand

2010-07-14T07:37:00.000-07:00

Today is a bad day.

Everything is swirling around in my head. I think visiting the hospital yesterday brought so much back to the surface, even brought back that feeling of hope before Sawyer was born - that I feel that he's almost with me still.

At night, when I lay in bed, I try to hold my tummy the same way I did every night when I was pregnant with Sawyer. But there is nothing there. Even though I can still feel him kicking inside of me, he's gone.

I just feel so sick to my stomach, knowing he struggled, even before he was born. The only comfort I have is knowing that he had to have felt me holding and cradling him each night.

How can a baby made with so much love have a broken heart?

"Our story"

2010-07-13T19:45:00.000-07:00

Today was my post-partum visit with my MFM doctor. We learned more about Sawyer and a lot more about what also happened to me during the pregnancy and delivery.

First things first - "Dr. Digi" sat down and went over Sawyer's brief life in the NICU and we were informed that he had a severe form of Tetralogy of Fallot - Truncus Arteriosis Type 4. We are going to get a much more detailed explanation from Sawyer's doctor when I meet with her next week - but from what we were told, his condition was not only rare, but fatal.

Dr. Digi also explained to us that Sawyer's heart defect and the issues with the pregnancy (premature rupturing of the membranes, low amniotic fluid, placental abruption) were two completely separate things. The fact that both these things occured simultaneously was extremely rare. Basically, we had a better chance of winning the lottery.

So, to try and figure out why I had such premature labor, Dr. Digi is doing a full thrombophilia work-up to determine if there were any underlying causes that we aren't aware of. I'm hoping that this bloodwork finds something because at least we could have an answer and know what we were up against if I get pregnant again.

What does all of this mean for the future? A lot.

I'm at a much higher risk of having premature labor and having a baby with congenital heart defects. But, my doctor and I are going to meet again after more testing over the next few months to determine a plan of action for the next pregnancy.

At the very least, today's visit was the furthest thing from the nightmare I envisioned it to be. I was so nervous when we arrived and was shaking so bad that I could barely sign my name when we first arrived.

My doctor's receptionist - Karla - stood up, reached over and hugged me and said how sorry she was. And we cried together.

It was at that moment that I felt "home" - My nurse, my doctor, the residents - everyone in the Maternal Fetal Medicine department have been there since the beginning - and all of them were here for me in the end.

The dream

2010-07-12T06:16:00.001-07:00

Nearly three years ago, when I was pregnant with Sadie, I had a dream - that is actually more of a nightmare. It was so vivid and realistic, I remember waking up my husband and calling my sister to tell them about it because it had shaken me up so terribly.

There isn't much to it...

Erik and I were in a room with dark paneling on the walls, wood floors that creaked under our feet every time we took a step. It was an older house but we were in a quiet, office-like setting and a man was leading us around the room.

The man was a funeral director. And Erik and I were there to pick out a casket for our baby that died. We picked a white one.

Sawyer's casket was white too.

Sawyer, everywhere...

2010-07-10T19:21:00.001-07:00

I appreciate when people tell me they feel Sawyer near them. I truly believe his spirit has touched so many, and I love when friends and family share their moments.

My sister, about a week after he died, said she saw a beautiful hawk by her home and it kept flying all around her as she went on a walk. She called and told me it reminded her of Sawyer.

Karlene told me about a beautiful sunset, and another friend said a rainbow that appeared out-of-the-blue instantly made her think of our beautiful baby.

I love whenever someone shares these moments with me and Erik. I hope it never stops.

Mary Todd

2010-07-10T18:50:00.000-07:00

We're in Sprinfield on a weekend trip and visited the Abe Lincoln Museum with Sadie. This is the second time Erik and I have gone together and on our first trip here, I was pregnant with Sadie.

The one thing I remembered most from that trip, and not just in light of recent events, was Mary Todd.

She lost her three-year-old son when she and Abe lived here in Springfield, followed by another son while they lived in the White House. And then another son after all of that.

Mary Todd had one living son left after all of that grief. All of that unimaginable heartache and pain. And her only living son had her committed, called her an insane, crazy woman. Well can you blame her?

To me, Mary Todd was a woman of unimaginable strength in the face of adversity that almost no one could ever imagine in a lifetime.

So there we were, looking at a figure of Mary Todd - adorned all in black, sitting next to a dark window - raindrops reflecting off her grief-stricken face.

And I wept quietly.