Tuesday, October 23, 2012

Whilst she sleeps...

Grace is napping in her swing right now, so rather than tackling the laundry, getting into bed, or loading the dishwasher, I'm choosing to write instead.

I've missed this place. The one where I would come to vent, cry as I type, and think about nothing but the little boy who is missing. Grace is 6 months old next week. As cliche as it is, I honestly have no idea where the time has gone. Our days are filled with the mundane (and I couldn't be happier about that) everyday tasks, and long moments of breathing her in. My mind still goes back to the point where I stood two years ago- blissfully pregnant and unaware that our little boy was not to be for long. I hate that.

Mommy's Little Pumpkin.. Heading to my parent's house for Thanksgiving.
I hate that I walked around like every other unassuming pregnant woman, confident we would have a little boy to raise. So sure he was ours to keep that I bought clothes to fit him when he was 12 months and beyond... I stocked up on diapers whenever I saw a good deal, with the goal of outfitting him throughout the first couple of years... Diapers Grace is now wearing- two years after their purchase, and used on that little boy's sister.

Her daddy likes to mimic her faces. 
As fall (my favourite season) is settling in, and the cooler nights are now our reality, I sort through our boxes and find the Old Navy bear suit I had planned to outfit him in rather than a winter coat. How much I wish he had outgrown these suits, and they had been folded and put away for his siblings. Instead the tags remain on these (there are two- 0-3, and 3-6 months) with the knowledge Grace can't wear them either as they were bought for a winter baby.

Love these two (+ one)
Another thought which has crept into my mind is that fall 2012 was when we may have realistically been thinking about a second baby... And now that baby won't be either. Which is not to say I grieve that, but more that I'm bothered by the many ways in which our life has been twisted and bent to nearly the breaking point. I think about weird things, like how Grace will attend school with kids born in 2012 and possibly be friends with kids born in 2011... How she will one day have friends who are the same age Jack should be... How awesome it was he was born on the 1st of January- the promise of a brand new year which should have been amazing and instead was simultaneously the best and worst of my life. The contrast between last year and this year is startling to me- I am able to do all the things I had wanted to do with Jack with his little sister.

Trying on her headband
This summer was full of stroller days. We walked a lot around our new subdivision and I would sing to her and tell her how gorgeous she is to me. I remember how much I have longed for that last year when I had no baby to push around.

I love being a mother to a living baby- it is everything and more than I expected and had hoped it would be. So far (knock on wood), I'm very rarely irritated with anything Grace does- whether that means pooping through a brand new outfit, or throwing up down my cleavage (she does it so often I'm not even surprised anymore...), whether it's her screaming for me only seconds after putting her down for the first time in hours, or when she awakes in her sleep crying because of what I can only assume is a bad dream. I love this baby so much it makes my heart swell. I know people say that all the time, but I mean it in a way I'm not quite sure I could have believed before experiencing it for myself.

This picture cracks me up.
She just wanted her momma to hold her.
This little girl is fantastic, and I am amazed she is mine.  Her Christmas dress arrived in the mail today and I can't wait to put it on her and get her pretty little portraits done in time for Christmas. We're coordinating our outfits, her grey and red dress coordinating with her daddy and I. I'm searching for the perfect bow for her pretty little head. All of these things are so wonderful. And yet it really bothers me that her big brother isn't there to pinch her, or make her smile or do all the wonderful things it is that 22 month old, stinky little boys do.

In a way, I am exactly where I wanted to be. Except not. I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, and I'm still struggling with that.

Monday, October 15, 2012

15th of October... Remembering the Babies.

Today and everyday I am remembering.

I posted the following on Facebook and then cried about it all day.

"Losing your baby is an incredible isolating and impossibly difficult situation to face. It's waking up every day wishing that you hadn't. It's plastering a smile on your face as you meet a friend with a baby the same age as your child. It's facing a subsequent pregnancy with people asking you if this is your first, and giving you advice on pregnancy as though you've never done this before. As if y
ou didn't just do this six months before. It's people telling you with complete certainty everything will "be okay" even though it wasn't for you, nor to the many deserving women you've met along this arduous road.

Being the 1 in 4 isn't easy. It's made even more difficult when people (friends? family?) make the topic taboo and make you ashamed to speak his or her name. Today is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. 1 in 4 women will experience a loss. I am the 1 in 4."

At 7pm EST I posted the following on Instagram. I've spent the last couple of days thinking about how I wanted to make the flame seen around the world, and had settled on a candle only beside Jack's urn and medal.

At the last moment I pulled his molds from our cabinet, where they've been since we moved into this house in July.
Our flame and Jack's hand and foot holds
Jack's hand mold, holding my ring bearing his name

Gah, I still can't believe this is my life.

Thinking of all the sweet babies and their loving families, too.


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