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.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Monday, March 7, 2011
Sawyer's Tulips
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.
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.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Holding on to what I have
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
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
Friday, March 4, 2011
Monday, February 28, 2011
Prediction
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Groundhog's Day Blizzard 2011
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
*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.
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.
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