Size Ones

At her pediatrician's appointment two weeks ago, Grace had gained back the 9.8% weight loss which came after she was born, and then some. She weighed in at a whopping 8.5lbs... I suspect she's tipping the scales at more than 9lbs at this point- she's quite the little chunk. I love chubster babies! :)

Clearly pleased with her weigh-in results.

I can feel her getting heavier- my arms growing tired after holding her through her numerous feedings. Last week, after delaying it as long as possible, we retired the Newborn sized baby girl clothes and diapers.

I wrote to Brandy about my apprehension in doing so. Because I'm so grateful she's growing big and strong, but it seems too soon for her to no longer be itsy-bitsy. She's four weeks old today- something which is so hard to believe- that we've had her here with us this long- that she's still alive... It seems too good to be true.

At birth, Grace outweighed Jack by more than a pound (the whereabouts seemed to be identifiable as having landed in her nom-able sweet baby cheeks, naturally). Changing to 0-3 sized clothing and size one Pampers Swaddlers seems like such a feat. It's acknowledging she's growing, but it's also yet another thing Jack never got to do- when he died he was no where near outgrowing his pint-sized clothes.

Whereas Grace lives for breast milk, her soft belly a nod to the nourishment she gets from Momma's good stuff, Jack wasn't the least bit interested in breastfeeding- he was a (pumped) bottle man. He didn't re-gain his birth weight- he didn't have the time. And of course it was the lactation consultation which led to the discover (and later the diagnosis) of Meningitis... It was something I was so scared to do-  to breastfeed her and hope for a different outcome than the last time. But it's working, and I'm so thankful she's a greedy little feeder because I'm not sure I could have mentally handled it if she wasn't.

She now wears the same size diaper Jack wore in the NICU- his generously sized to allow for the catheter and other various tubes and wires. I still have the single size one Pampers Swaddler they sent me home with in his memory box... And now I wrap, and unwrap the very same diapers for his little sister. Huh.


She's here, and she's outgrowing him. She's here in a way he never really was- growing- thriving even and I am so thankful for that. But I don't know how to process that everything she does from here on out are things he never will. I feel like this may be the biggest burden of parenting after a loss I ever experience- trying to cope with my anger, guilt and sadness for the things he'll never experience, while we celebrate her every milestone.

Tonight, she fake-cried, then when her dad and I laughed at her, she gave us our first mutual gummy smile. It's enough to break my heart- because I can only imagine what his might have been like.


She locks eyes with me as we nurse together, as though to thank me for the milk she drinks.  She coos at me, and pushes her feet into the palms of my hands as I rub lotions into her soft little feet. We shower together, her warm little body pressed gently to mine as I rinse Burt's Bees from her baby mullet. Sometimes I hold her, and kiss the top of her head, and I cry, remembering the boy who occupied these same hands, these same arms, these same kisses not all that long ago... Happy tears mixing in with the sad- it's hard to distinguish them from one another.

It's all so bittersweet.

For a long time...

Postsecret.com, Mother's Day 2012.

For a long time I whole heartedly believed this.

In the aftermath of Jack's passing, I seriously wondered what I was going to do with my life. I had no sense of purpose- after all, I had planned out my life in segments- attend university, fall in love, get married, have babies, watch them grow... Live happily ever after.

Then the bottom fell out of my happily ever after and I was left to spiral out of control.

I remember, far too vividly, when I only left my bed to eat- not because of any desire to eat, but only to sustain my life... Or what was left of it.

I remember in the moments after finding out we would be losing Jack forever I announced I could not live without my baby- tears pouring from my eyes. And I meant it with every fibre of my being.

I had been anticipating his arrival since the second pink line appeared on the pregnancy test on May 5th, 2010. I had anticipated the life we would have together since long before Jack was even a twinkle in my eye, or those of my husband.

And all at once, it was gone and I had two choices:

I could live, forever being a little bit worse;

or, I could die.

I chose life. Death was never really an option for me- I needed to be there for my husband, for my friends, for my family. I needed to be here so Jack could be proud of me- to live on because he was unable to. To bring his siblings into the world and provide a life for them that I had wanted so desperately to give to him.

So we lived some semblance of a happy life for the past 16 months.

Luckily for me, I am married to an incredible husband and even more so, and incredible human being. Don't get me wrong- he drives me absolutely bonkers by leaving his dirty underwear in a pile on the floor on his side of the bed. He puts dirty dishes in the sink when he could just as easily have put them in the dishwasher (which drives me batty and is the source of most of our arguments). He looks to me to ask whether I've seen a particular item of clothing, because I can count on one hand the number of times he has ever used our laundry pair. But he's so much more than that. He makes sure I know that I am loved, and that I am appreciated (even when it doesn't feel like it), and he makes sure he has every confidence in my ability to parent Grace, along with Jack's memory. He is fiercely protective of this little family of his, and I am so thankful for that.

Snuggles with Dad 

Last night we lay in bed, Grace snoring (yes, she totally snores...) in the bassinet beside me, and my husband asked how I was feeling. I shrugged, telling him I felt good. I feel happy. And then tears rolled off my cheeks as I declared how much I still miss him. How grateful I am to be able to mother her but how much I desperately wish I could mother him, too. How sorry I am not only for ourselves to have lost him, but how much I regret that he didn't get to experience the life we had hoped he would- the one we still hope his sister will.

Pretty girl

I guess, in a long-winded way, all I'm trying to say is that we've come through the other side, bruised and battered but not beaten. I miss my son so very much, and the day-to-day monotonous stuff I get the pleasure of sharing with her is all the sweeter because I know how much I longed to do this last year, heck, how much I longed to do this a month ago.  I've found I have an uncanny level of patience, which I never had before. I mother her the best way I know how- because it's a privilege denied to me 17 months ago. I mother her the best way I know how because I want him to be proud of the momma he made simply by being.

Boy who stole my heart

The girl who helps heal it.

3 + 1

I've been holding out on you.  One week ago today, our family grew.

We are a family of 3+1, a summation which *should* equal four, and yet one of us is forever missing. My heart still breaks thinking I will never get the chance to have everyone here, all at once. Like it's just too much to ask.

This is the little sister, Grace Jack McCannell. Born at 9:11pm May 1st, 2012. 8lbs2oz, and 20.5 inches in length.

Sixteen months to the day her big brother made Scott and I parents, he gave us this gift- the chance to be parents to a screechy babe once again. She arrived a week or so ahead of her scheduled c-section, but that is a story for another day.

My thoughts are a little incoherent as I've been working on this post over the past few days... Nothing seems quite right, and I find myself coming back to make adjustments... I'm just going to hit publish because if I don't do it now, I don't know when I ever will.

---

She looks so much like him, it takes my breath away at times. I see her daddy showering her with kiss after kiss and my heart swells for them, and yet breaks for all Jack is missing... All we were robbed of in losing him. I watch Scott smile when he looks over at us nursing in bed beside him, I witnessed him take her for walks in the middle of the night when she was restless at the hospital. He is every ounce the father I knew in my heart he would be.

---

Having a little girl takes some getting used to. I love all the pink hues, but oh how I miss all my sweet baby blues. This daughter of mine wears many of the things I had purchased for him, and as I type this she naps beneath the soft baby blue blanket her Nana knit for her brother, but didn't quite finish before he was gone. I had to run an errand today and upon returning home, I loudly exclaimed, "we're home now little boy", only for the last syllable to catch in my throat. It still hurts, 16 months after his birth, and nearly 16 months after his death... I still long for him.

---

She "talks" in her dreams, mumbling- making soft little coos- her little eyelids fluttering while she sleeps. I hope in those brief moments between dreams she can see him... I tell myself she is talking to him,  telling him all about the things we have done, all the kisses and snuggles she had during the day. I hope she tells him we still talk about him, that we still miss him every second of every day, and how much we wish we could have both of our beautiful babies in our arms.

Tomorrow is 8 days since her birth- the point at which in his short life he was declared so his organ donation process could begin. She will have been alive, officially, longer than he ever was. That hurts to think of. Of course I've always wanted her to outlive him, but it still stings to know that his time was so very fleeting. She is a very real example of all we are missing.

----

Of course this time has been joyous, but I would be remiss not to mention how deeply my heart hurts for Becky, at the loss of her beautiful daughter... All this after losing her sweet Liam in January 2011. Since reading about Evelynn, I have been so very angry for her. At the root of it all, for this injustice to have happened twice, to a wonderful set of parents, is outrageous. I am furious at the world for taking such a beautiful little soul from her parents and I will never quite be able to wrap my head around any of this.

This BLM's Mind as Delivery Approaches

As I round the final corner of this pregnancy, I struggle to come to grasp with what is to come in the next few weeks. I find myself overwhelmed with excitement, and also very anxious. I'm excited because OMG she's coming (!!!), but anxious because we've been here and done this before, except last time we left the hospital with empty arms and broken hearts.

I watched the video clips we have of Jack today, because I really have nothing better to be doing with my time, and it's been a while since I've sat down to watch them. I watched from his delivery through until the night before he was admitted- all the video documentation of his little life. I smiled at some of the looks on his face, I laughed along with myself on video at my husband's antics, and sighed at the video clip in which my husband repeatedly says, "hello Jack" and I watch my boy roll his eyes, as if on cue.

I watched myself telling Jack "we've waited our whole lives to meet you" just after we had met. I heard Scott's voice crack and the high pitched "awwww" he managed when he first laid eyes on him.  He couldn't stop thanking the doctors and the nurses for his little boy, while in actual fact it was he and I who made this perfect little being. Together. Incredible.

Jack's cone-head from being stuck in my pelvis all day is red and raw in the film. The nurse assures us on tape that Jack tried his very best to squeeze down there, but he just couldn't do it. I watch his sweet little tongue dart in and out of his rose bud lips and smile to myself that his sister shares these same lips.

It's hard to look at this footage, even though at one point it was the only thing which got me through the day. It's hard to see us so optimistic and happy and not think of what was yet to come- that which we were so blissfully unaware. We had every reason to think he would live- he was here, he was checked out by the pediatrician and declared healthy... Why would we ever suspect it wouldn't last? It's heartbreaking, watching our prior life on tape and knowing we were just days from our whole worlds crashing down.

In approaching these final days, I've managed to get my nerves at bay by telling myself it can't happen again. That we have every reason to think Grace will have a different outcome than her brother. It makes me feel confident that we are doing everything we can to get her here safely (ie, the weekly BPPs) and to ensure she remains healthy. But I feel badly that we somehow let Jack down, that we didn't/couldn't offer him this same thing.

I know there isn't anything more we could have done. I feel confident in the decisions we made about his health and his care in the hospital. I honestly believe in my heart of hearts it was simply too late and the infection too strong to have ever changed the outcome.. But my heart hurts all the same.

Parts of my memories of him are fading. I was surprised by his kitten-like noises and snorting on the video today, I had forgotten how noisy little babies are. I've forgotten what it feels like to hold his weight in my arms. So many of previously strong memories have faded, and I find I am not as affected by triggers as I once was... Dates no longer seem to upset me in the way they would have just a few short months ago. The fact Grace is scheduled to arrive on the 16 month anniversary of his declaration forces me to approach the dates a little differently, it brings out the beauty of what was previously a day on the calendar which had haunted me.

Sometimes it doesn't even seem like it was real... It doesn't seem possible that we made it through the birth, and the subsequent death of our firstborn. That he was really here- born to us, and then he was taken away... That we could have anticipated his arrival with such excitement and hope for 9 months only to lose him days after he got here... It's just incredibly hard to accept that this has happened.  It just seems like such an incredible waste of a young life, and I hate with my entire being that this is the only shot Jack got at living a beautiful life. We wanted so much for him, I still do even though it's impossible.

Together, Scott and I have persevered through all of the ups and downs we have been forced to experience over the past 16 months... We have taken the challenges we have faced, and together we have overcome them. If not overcoming them, we have learned to live with this gaping hole in our hearts and life, for better or for worse.  It's entirely impossible to believe that we're coming out on the other side of this very dark tunnel, and are somehow (better? worse?) alternatives to the people we were on January 1st, 2011 when we first laid eyes on our son.

A part of me won't let me "go there" with all of this, it won't let me be swallowed whole by grief at this point- I suspect there are some survival instincts kicking in, keeping me afloat right now.

I can only hope that as we welcome Jack's baby sister into our lives, we are able to balance our great joy with the grief that is equally great. I hope we continue to be able to grieve the loss of our son as we are celebrating the life of our daughter. Because they will always be my kids, and together with their dad, will always be the great loves of my life.

Well, That's That!

Our house sold, 6 days after it hit the market thanks to the craziness that is the Toronto real estate market. It all seems so official now, soon this won't be our home and the beautiful nursery will be left behind. I'm okay with it so far, though I'm sure there will be more sadness to come as we pack up the nursery all together in preparation for our move in July.

I think I would have a harder time with it if I didn't absolutely love the new house and the life it will help us to provide for Grace. The new house has a pool, and a big chunk of land for her to run around on. I can't wait for those things. I'm obsessed with the idea of walking onto the back deck to sip coffee and nurse our little little girl while soaking in the morning sunshine. Obsessed. The dreams of beautiful stroller days consume me, with hopes of stretching my legs walking around our subdivision, to the local park, and even to the teensy library located no more than a kilometer from our doorstep.  I want it all- baby massage classes, mommy and me fitness classes, all of it. Please and thank you.

These are the dreams I've missed out for the past 16-ish months. The dreams I will always long to have shared with Jack, but I hope I can share with his sister. I seriously hope so. The stakes are at an all-time high with only 3.5 weeks until her scheduled birth.

I can not lose her.

I need her.

We had our first biophysical profile on Wednesday. Our baby is enormous. The tech assured me he's fairly confident I have GD because baby is weighing in at 6lbs14 at 35 weeks gestation.  I'm fairly confident Grace is carrying a great portion of that weight in her cheeks and lips. Want proof?

She's so squashed in there her lips are pressed against my uterus, like a kiss...  Not unlike
the "duck face" teenagers make to post to FB...

She looks a lot like her big brother, with those cheeks and the nose and lips I take full responsibility for. My husband is beginning to wonder when he might get a shot at providing some genetics to the babies we have together... I suspect his genes might come into play with the fingers and toes, I would be willing to bet money she has the same fingers and toes as her daddy and brother. :)

Thanks to the GD diagnosis and the gigantic baby status, we've earned ourselves weekly BPPs from here on out. My OBGYN also alluded to the fact she thinks it might calm my nerves a little to see Grace on a regular basis, and I couldn't agree more.  I already can't wait until next week!

One more big change that happened this week is that I wrapped-up the last of my days of work. Today marks my first day of leave, and I couldn't be happier to be done. I've really been feeling the onset of aches and pains, and the fatigue that goes along with it, so the timing worked out perfectly.

I'm off to celebrate my new found freedom by getting my hair done.

The Million Dollar Family

I accidentally hit "publish" this morning while working on my mom's HP equivalent of the iPad. I was having a hell of a time typing on that thing and the auto correct and grammatical errors were getting to be too much for even me (and I'm pretty relaxed on this here blog). Anyway, here's my post in it's entirety...

I am pregnant "out to here" and so I'm getting a of "must being day now", "you're fit to burst" comments. I don't reply mind because I do look overtly pregnant and I feel fit to pop at any minute. About a week a go I was in the elevator bank at work when a nice girl asked whether this was my first ("no"), whether we knew the gender (yes, girl) and whether my first was a girl or boy (a gorgeous lovely, perfect little man).

"You have yourself a million dollar family!", she exclaimed, clearly thrilled for me. I didn't have the heart to tell her we should have one, but yet we don't. Instead, I replied, "something like that!" and smiled. It felt so forced- it's not her fault because I have said the exact same thing to people without giving it a second thought. And it is a wonderful thing that we will soon be parents to both a hunk of a little man as well as a lovely little lady in just a few short weeks, I just wish I could have them both in my arms, you know? Like I won the lottery, but have been taxed a child.

This week has been full of up and downs. Baby Gracie is just fine, perfect even. She remains hopeless devoted to her daddy and he to her. And I to them both. I had a doctors appointment earlier this week as I tested borderline for Gestational Diabetes. I haven't been testing out of "normal" blood sugar ranges, even after eating a ton of carbohydrates, so I haven't been particularly anxious about the appointment. It wasn't until I had run through the list of risk factors with the doctor and he mentioned pregnancies in quick succession that I kinda thought, huh well... The doctor mentioned this as a factor,
the referenced his notes and  said perhaps having two babies in 18 months could have contributed. So the next logical question for him to ask was how old my first was, and so I began down the road of explanation... After I told him Jack had died he asked whether he would tell me how and when. So I told him. I wasn't prepared for his response, which was two fold;

"You know Bacterial Meningitis is incredibly rare right?". YUP, I DO!

Which was quickly followed with; "You know, you really are lucky your son died as a baby, and not as a child. In my faith (he was Jewish), babies don't have souls". He went on to explain about how much harder it would be to lose a thirteen year old version of your child, rather than a baby you never really knew. I just stared at him. When I managed to pick my jaw up off the floor, I told him that a mother very much knows her baby, no matter how long she has with him or her. I also let him know we mothers start setting a place at the table for our babies, as soon as we know we are pregnant. I told him it wasn't helpful, that what he said didn't make me feel better. The guy was kind of just a weirdo, and so when I burst into tears in frustration, he kinda became awkward and excused himself only to return with a small box of sandpaper tissues to dry my tears with. When I thanked him for the tissues, he assured me it was "no problem, I'm sensitive to these things".
...

Anyway, so that clearly left me startled and I called Scott crying. Um, it's never a good idea for a BLM to call a BLD crying after a doctor's appointment, and Scott was immediately concerned as to why his pregnant wife was choking on her tears too much to talk. When I told him, he just laughed and confirmed the guy was an idiot with no bedside manner. The fact this guy spoke to me about his religion in the context of a diabetes clinic seemed more than a little offside, and even now as I sit back and reflect on it, I wish I had chosen my words more harshly... I know I can call and complain to the medical board here in Ontario, but honestly, I have to see this guy only twice more and I am rid of him. I just want it over, you know?

BAH.

In better news, things on the home front are well under way. It's actually why I didn't post last week as I usually would have- we spent the entire weekend sanding/priming/painting and de-cluttering to get our house ready to hit the market last Tuesday. I'm delighted to say we managed it, despite having very sore muscles to show for it. The house looks great, we've already had thirty private viewing appointments and 60 "groups" walked through our home at our two open houses held this weekend. Our realtor is delighted, and we have one registered offer so far, and hope there are more to come tomorrow. We shall see, all we need is one, right? :)

Speaking of which, I want to show how adorable Jack's nursery looks now that it's sorted and purged (don't kid yourself, I am not this organized. I have 1000 things packed up in storage! This room will be re-filled with baby stuff as soon as the sold sign hits the front lawn!). Some of Gracie's things have migrated into the room as well, which is entirely bitter-sweet.

Why yes, that is the wall which took us no fewer than 4 hours to tape and paint. That sure is the UppaBaby stroller folded under the crib, the giraffe-print chair set I bought for Jack's siblings last spring, a couple pillows I picked to coordinate with other baby gear things I possess.

I also have the following photo to show you since I have owed you a shot of the bathroom I demolished and rebuilt last spring when my rage was at an all-time high and I need to demonstrate it physically. True story- that Dwell fabric shower curtain was custom-ordered on Etsy and took nearly three months to arrive on my doorstep. I gotta say though, it's pretty perfect and it'll be coming with us when we move and making its way into Grace's bathroom. :)

Ta Da!

In work news, I have two days of work left before I start my leave. I'm looking forward to putting my feet up and relaxing once we can put this housing stuff behind us.  I have to say though, this house buying and selling thing has been an excellent distraction for the past couple of weeks. We're now just over four (4!!!) weeks from her arrival and I'm feeling a strong urge to nest. I've already done her baby laundry, but am contemplating washing it again since I think I might have done it too soon and really what else do I have to do over the next couple of weeks? Still a few more things to do to prepare for baby, but I can quickly accomplish those next week when I have nothing but time on my hands.

I'll keep you updated re: the house. Wish us luck!!

Gigantic, Enormous, Terrifying Leaps of Faith...

Remember this post? I wrote it weeks before we knew Grace was on her way, it was in fact about a week later we conceived her.

I wrote about a dream house, of our fears to sell our Toronto home and trading it all in for country roads and fields, and a rural address. When I wrote the post I explored my greatest fear: we would buy the house of our dreams and be unable to fill the house with babies- the very reason we wanted the house in the first place.

Once we found out we were pregnant again, we made an offer on that very home pictured in the post. Our offer was countered with a sum which made us laugh out loud. We resigned ourselves to the fact we had tried, and now felt comfortable walking away- we would keep looking. We both remained scared of making a change before Grace arrived- because while we were pregnant, we no longer felt confident that pregnancy results in living, keeping forever babies. I'm still not convinced, but I am hopeful.

We've looked pretty consistently for the past 8 months and while a few houses peaked our interest, no further offers have been made. We would both look up the original house listing from time-to-time and ogle over it until the house went off the market just after Christmas. We assumed it had sold.

It wasn't until we returned from Whistler a month or so ago, we asked our realtor to reach out to the seller's agent who confirmed the house was in fact not sold, but rather just removed from market until the spring when it would be re-listed. We discussed our options with our realtor- the fact is no other houses had come to market for a price we were wiling to pay, and no house had captured our hearts quite as much as the house we had previously offered on. We decided to tour the house one last time (which we did last Sunday) and finally upped our original offer which was accepted on Tuesday.

We have a new house- our dream house, or at least it will be in July, when we are planning to be moving with a two month old daughter. An enormous leap of faith towards the future we have always planned, even though it means a variation of the life we had hoped for since it can never include the little boy we have longed to buy horsies, doggies or tractors for. It still hurts, that he can never be an active participant in our daily lives- that he never had the opportunity to enjoy the life we had always dreamed to share with him. But the reality is that whether or not we move, we can't have him back. We're not leaving him behind, but bringing his memory with us- to the home which should have been his.

This weekend has been filled with doing things around our own house to prepare it for sale. This meant I finally needed to address the nursery head-on. It's quite literally acted as a dumping ground for all things baby- cards of congratulations upon Jack's arrival, condolence cards and memorial contribution cards, and his cremation paperwork. It's all in there. It's also been home to purchases for Grace, cards we have received in recognition of the little lady growing within me. Gifts we've received from friends. There's a stroller and bassinet jammed in there with the car seat I carried empty into the house one cold day in January, 2011. Needless to say it was both a physical and emotional hurdle I needed to overcome before we could show it to a realtor and prepare our home for sale.

It meant I spent two hours yesterday sitting on the blue and white striped rug I had hoped he would learn to crawl on, sorting through the papers and clothing and gifts. I sorted into distinct piles: things which would only ever be Jack's- clothing he had worn and hadn't been washed before he passed away, and his paperwork (including his hospital health care he received upon birth which states "baby boy W..." My maiden name... knife to my heart), his social security card, and his birth and death certificates. A stack was made for baby boy clothes I hope will be worn by future sons, a pile for Grace's newborn- 3 month clothing, and finally a collection for clothes she wouldn't need until after we moved.  It's hard, segmenting all of the hopes and dreams we have for her from those we hold for her (hopefully) future brothers, and also the brother she'll never get to meet here on Earth.

The process was an emotional one, I cried a bunch as I packed up Jack's things, and touched his foot and hand moulds, touched the snippet of downy soft hair blond hair concealed within a tiny little envelope. Looking at the size one diapers which he wore in the NICU, even though they were entirely too big... Blankets he had touched while at the hospital- all these material things which prove he was real- they prove he was here. I cried for all the sweet things he never got the opportunity to wear- all the clothes hanging for him in his closet... I haven't even unpacked his clothing drawers yet- I ran out of time... But it's coming, in the next couple of weeks I need to do that too.

In an effort to consolidate things, I opened the wipes container which had been on his dresser. It's been more than a year since I've opened the container for the purpose of wiping his cute little butt clean, and yet the fact they were dried out was startling to me somehow. Logically it makes sense, but it's yet another example of something I never anticipated- that when I refilled that container, I would be doing it for the last time he was alive. That the contents of the container would be thrown a way as they had dried out.

Today I am washing sweet baby clothing. I had initially planned to wait another couple of weeks to begin this process, but decided as I was packing up boxes, I might as well get started. I have three loads of newborn and 0-3 clothes in various stages of clean- I've folded one load of baby sheets and swaddle blankets, burp clothes, and paired up baby socks. Even as I wash things I worry I'm tempting fate by starting 6+ weeks out from her arrival.  I try to push the thoughts out of the forefront of my mind and focus on the squirming being within me, who I hope will outgrow this clothing before wearing even half of it.

I also can't push away the thought my OBGYN might move up my delivery date (I am not-so-secretly hoping she does), and since I can't do many of the things we are required to do before listing (painting and exterior window cleaning) our house next week, this helps me to feel like I'm contributing in some way. I am preparing for her, just as I did her brother, with all the hope and optimism I can muster. I have to say, the sweet smell of baby laundry makes me smile. I never realized just how much I could miss something as mundane as laundry... But I have, and it's extremely bitter-sweet preparing for a baby I can only hope is going to be coming for keeps in just a few weeks.

I'm thankful for the distractions which come with a new home and all the "to do" lists which need to be completed before we can make our dream home really ours. The past week has flown by as we prepare for the big changes which are coming, and with a bunch of doctor's appointments this week and my time at work wrapping up just after Easter, I can't help like feel like we're edging ever so quickly towards Gracie's arrival. I'm so thankful to be at this point, which I always felt was out of reach, mere weeks from when she is to arrive. I have all my eggs in one uterus-shaped basket, and I just need this baby to make it. I need her here, to help heal our broken hearts and restore some of the innocence we lost when we lost him.

Please baby girl, just get here safely.