Dreams are mean

Last night, I had such a sweet dream. It was very unrealistic, which isn't like my usual dreams. Surprisingly, I tend to have dreams that do a good job of coinciding with my normal life. Once in a while I'll get an odd surprise, but not usually. I never dream that Avery is alive. I only ever once dreamed that she came back to life after she'd been born, but that was years ago, just days after she died.

And last night came a dream that I never have because my mind knows better. It knows it's not possible. Last night, I dreamed I was pregnant with a third child. There was no fear, as if it were just a normal thing for me to get pregnant again. I'm not sure if Avery existed in this impossible universe, but I know Jude did. In the dream, we also quickly found out that this unexpected baby was a boy. There were no thoughts in my mind that he could ever die or that I was in any danger. It all just felt so calm and easy, like I assume most normal women feel when pregnant. I remember being excited to pick out a name. And just like in real life, if we were able to have another son, we chose the name Jonah.

I remember feeling so happy and so delighted over Jonah. I was excited that Jude would be getting a brother and that we would get to raise another baby. But then, inevitably, I woke up and Jonah disappeared. There won't be a Jonah.

And as I brushed my teeth and recalled the dream, I felt angry. I want to accept the fact that I can never be pregnant again, but if my mind is going to betray me (even in my sleep), then this will be so much harder than it already is. I wish so badly the dream could be real, without any possible consequences.

I just wish I could have Jonah.

Baby Girl

What's it like to hold your own chubby pink baby girl? What's it like to buy all sorts of pink and fill a room with girly cuteness? What's it like to hang and fold the sweetest of dresses? What's it like to paint tiny finger and toenails? What's it like to attend playful little tea parties, and watch your little girl breeze through the room dressed like a princess? What's it like to braid her soft hair on her small head, or give her a ponytail? What's it like to have your daughter?

I am left only to imagine what all of this is like. I've spent countless hours imagining all of this. The absence of this. The loss of this. I ache for my little girl. The one I lost. The one I can't have. I never dreamed I would never have the chance to have another girl after we lost Avery. I thought surely we could fix this monstrous defect inside me. That medical intervention would be all we needed to get the rest of them here. The sweet little lives I dreamed of bringing into this world. The ones that will never be. Who would they have been? I'm sure at least one would have been another girl. I still desire that so much. I ache to raise a little girl. To have the sweet relationship I share with my own mother. To watch her grow into a beautiful woman.

I had my heart set on raising my little girl. More than halfway through my pregnancy, I never thought I would lose her. I didn't know I'd be faced with a future without her. I believed she was my future, for the rest of my life. Then the rug was pulled out from under my feet, taking her away with it. All the plans and the dreams that were planted in my heart the moment she was planted in my womb. I have a daughter... but I don't. I have my daughter waiting for me and I will be with her again one day in Heaven, but here, my arms are aching for her. Aching for a little girl.

Sons are amazing. I would know, I have one. He satisfies my desire of having a son. He fills my heart with joy. He is exactly the son I dreamed of raising, when I named my first son Jude long before I even married his father. His entrance into this world was not what I had in mind, but I'm just thankful he made it here at all. If given the impossible ability to have more sons, I would accept them in a second and be grateful for them and love them completely as well. But still, my heart would ache for what I was supposed to have here.

I just wish so badly I could have another daughter to watch grow up. I think about it so often. I feel so incomplete. It's so difficult to have already lost what you wish you could have.

The Inevitable

I've been a part of this awful wonderful community of women since I started my blog in June of 2010. The community of baby loss moms. Before I started my blog, I was alone. I was the freak of nature whose baby died inside her. I knew no one like me. The only outlet I had was, sadly, Facebook... the vast sea of normal people with constant pregnancy announcements and photos of living chubby pink babies. I felt so alienated. So isolated. I didn't start getting better and healing until I started finding mothers like me.

I had so much anger, so much pain, so much grief... I didn't know what to do with it. How to express it and how to just release all of the pent up emotions that were plaguing me. Finally, when another baby loss mom's blog inspired me to start mine, it was the best thing that could have happened. I was able to get all of those tormenting thoughts out but I also found so many other women out there who had been thrown into this journey around the same time I had.

We'd all lost our firstborn babies within months of each other. We were all in the very early raw stages of our grief, some of us still trying to process our losses, some of us still waiting for the results to tell us what had happened to our babies. We went through so much together, pouring out tortured posts and leaving each other encouraging and loving comments. We started adding each other on Facebook and being a part of each other's lives. I didn't feel so alone anymore. It made such a difference to have people that understood this. It was vital in trying to heal.

The next step we all worked toward was being ready for our Rainbow Babies (a baby born after a loss... the rainbow after the storm). It seemed we all started getting pregnant around the same time, one after another, until we were all pregnant again together. It was very exciting and hopeful, sharing these sacred pregnancies together, sharing our fears and understanding each other's worries. And of course our babies are all pretty close in age (though Jude came a bit earlier than he was supposed to). One by one, we had our precious Rainbow Babies. Each miracle entered the world, healthy and perfect. It was glorious.

But then things changed... It was me who quickly found out that Jude would be my last. It was me who was told not to have any more children. Even though I have come to know a few other women who have the same exact blood clotting mutations I have, I was the only one who didn't have a successful Rainbow pregnancy with the same corrective medical regimen. The other women carried to term. None formed blood clots. None had their future children taken away from them. It was just me. My body still failed to sustain my unborn child. My emergency c-section almost killed me... twice. I was the only one with complications. What is wrong with me? Why can't I just be like them?

Even though all of these new realities came to be, I was, for the most part, still the same as these mothers. We were torn between happiness and sadness. Thrilled to finally hold our living, breathing children like we'd always dreamed. But we were sad because it reminded us all over again what we'd lost with our first babies. We were all experiencing what we'd bawled our eyes out for through dozens of agonizing, sleepless nights. It was glorious. And we all shared it together. First smiles. First visits to the cemetery to meet big sister/brother. We all understood each other. I felt like I belonged so well, though I knew one day, it would change again...

And that time has come. I knew it would. I was fully aware it would happen. I don't think I expected it to start happening so soon, but it has. My baby loss friends are slowly getting pregnant again. I'm surprised by how much it bothers me. I am, without a doubt, happy for them all. I would never want any of them to be in the same boat as me. I wouldn't want them to never have more babies. I know I would if I could! I would never want any of them to think they have attributed to my struggles. Trust me, the struggles were already here! I have no bitterness or ill will toward them. Am I jealous? Sure. My feelings all stem from how I feel about myself... how I feel about the cards I have been dealt... the horribly unfortunate flawed nature of my body and its inability to do the one thing I desire more than anything. The sadness I feel is not geared toward these lovely mothers. It is not their fault. They're just doing what they have every right to do... what I wish I could do. And I feel sorry for myself. I'm slowly becoming different again. But I'm so glad they're not like me.

I feel stuck in my grief. I like I can't move on like I would be able to if I could continue having more children. I feel like I grasp onto Avery tighter than I would if I could have another daughter. Not that she could or would be replaced. But that ache in my heart to raise a daughter could possibly be quenched. I wouldn't know what it would be like to raise Avery and watch her grow up, but I could experience a daughter and all the girly sweet things I would have experienced with Avery. Now, none of that is possible and I am left with dreaming of what could have/should have been. I can't fully move on because I am still being injured by all of this. What took Avery nearly took Jude and it's taken away all of the babies I thought I would have... All the babies I wanted so badly and still do. I will never feel life fluttering away inside me ever again. I will never bring another life into this world. I will never caress another newborn cheek in the middle of the night. I'll never cradle another tiny body close to my chest. I still can't get over that. I can't get past it. It's all I've ever wanted. I'd do anything to change this.

I get so angry when I think about all of this. About this life I have been given. This life sentence of losing so much of what I wanted for my life. I planned it all out since I was a kid. But I'll tell ya... This body of mine has really screwed up so much of my life. I've always hated my body, but never more than I do now. There's this sense of betrayal. A sense of failure... That because of my body, I cannot do what a woman is made to do. That a life was lost because of my body and another was severely compromised because of it as well. It really takes a toll on how I feel about myself. I know it's not my fault. But my body, inside and out, has always been what's wrong with my life. I always feel like I'm trapped inside this disgusting shell. I wish I could just break out of it and be normal. Be happy.

I wish we could start talking about another baby and decide when we're ready to start trying again. I wish we could make another pregnancy announcement and tell the world with excitement that Jude is going to be a big brother. I wish we could reuse all the precious clothes we loved on Jude. I wish Jude wouldn't grow up alone. I wish he could know what it's like to share life with a brother or sister who would always be a friend. I wish I could watch my belly slowly get bigger, counting the weeks with joy. I wish I could feel the kicks and the rolls once again. I wish I could feel the excitement of the ultrasounds and the thrill of the gender reveal. Keeping the list of names. Journaling every little tidbit. Dreaming of who it is dancing beneath my heart. I miss it. I miss all of it. I hate how much I want it. I swear I was given the wrong fate. Why has God allowed me to grow up with this insatiable desire if He knew I'd be denied it? I just don't understand.

Day 11: Falling From Cloud 9

Today, three years ago, is the day we found out we'd lost Avery. The day of the ultrasound that showed her still, lifeless little body. The day we found out I'd have to deliver her. There really isn't anything else that I can write for today that I haven't written before. I decided to just repost what I blogged on Avery's blog on this day two years ago, on the very first anniversary. It may be of special interest to newer readers who may not know the whole story. But first, I would like to share a photo from today when we took Jude to visit his big sister.

Originally posted on The Avery Diaries on March 11, 2010:

March 11th - The hardest day

Today, a year ago, our whole world came crashing down. Last night, a year ago, I had the strangest feeling that something was wrong. Heart palpitations all evening. Worry. Out of nowhere, really. Then, it all escalated into tears and a small panic attack. I believe in my heart that that's when our sweet girl was leaving us for Heaven. My body and my heart knew. But my mind wouldn't until the following day.

It was Thursday, March 11, 2010... I had called my mom and told her my concerns. She thought it would be best to go to labor and delivery at the hospital just for peace of mind. After all, we did have a date later to see Dear John at the movies together. So Daniel and I went. I felt kind of silly, assuming I didn't know what I was talking about since this was my first baby. But I needed to hear that Avery was fine and I didn't care if they thought I was paranoid.

After an agonizing wait, which was probably not half as long as it felt, they called us back and hooked me up to a fetal monitor. Well, they tried to. They couldn't pick up a heartbeat and decided to go with a regular fetal doppler. Three different nurses tried their hand at it. None of them said anything but I could see it in their faces that this was not good. Plus I knew Avery. In the doctor's office, her heartbeat was always found so quickly. Still, I refused to entertain the thought that she was gone. I couldn't handle that.

They sent me over to ultrasound and I got on the table, actually feeling a little excited to see our baby on the screen. A part of me was still hoping that the doppler issue was a fluke and that the ultrasound would show us a healthy beautiful girl. But she was so still. She looked so cloudy, faded. Two different techs looked for a heartbeat. I could see the flatline across the screen as they typed 'NO FHT.' No fetal heart tone. They weren't allowed to tell me Avery was gone, but I knew it. The techs left Daniel and I alone for a moment and I turned to him and finally beginning to cry, I said, "I'm going to have to deliver her." His eyes welled up, "No," he answered, still not wanting to believe it.
The tech returned and told me to go to the restroom. I remember it so perfectly. I felt like I was in a dream. I closed the bathroom door behind me and looked at myself in the mirror. I whispered, "This is the worst day of my life." Then I added, "My baby is dead." That's when I started crying more. To say it, to admit it... I knew it was true.

 

They took us back to OB and had us wait in an empty delivery suite. I looked around the room, knowing I wouldn't be coming to one of these rooms with joy. I would come back here to say goodbye. In a few moments, a nurse, Daniele, entered the room. Her face said everything. I was already crying. She came right up to me, knelt down in front of me and just pulled me to her. That is when I lost it, sobbing and sobbing. And that's when she finally said it. She told me 'the baby is gone.' I really don't think I've ever cried that hard before or since. It was truly the most devastating and painful moment of my life.

Daniele and another nurse, Vicki, told us our options. We could stay and I could be induced to deliver right then. Or I could go home, meet with my doctor in the morning and decide when to come back. It was all too much, too soon. We decided to come back the following day. I couldn't part with our sweet girl just yet. The nurses left the room for a moment and Daniel called the pizza place he delivered for at that time to tell them he wouldn't make it in that night. I started crying all over again when I heard him tell his boss, "I just found out my baby died." It hurt me so much to hear him say that. I hated that he was hurting so much. But Avery is something we share together.

One of my biggest memories from that day is when I called my mom. I dreaded her answering because I knew I was about to shatter her world too. "Mom... she's dead," was all I could manage to say through my tears. "No, don't tell me that," she answered, immediately crying. I don't remember much else from our conversation, but I know I told her they couldn't find a heartbeat and the ultrasound confirmed she was gone. I'm sure I told her we decided to come back 'tomorrow' to induce and deliver. My father was appalled that I had to deliver a dead baby. But that was the reality of it.

After we left the hospital, we went straight to my parents' house. My parents and two of my brothers met us at the door. I broke down all over again when I saw them and they each hugged me. It all just felt so awful. More than awful. There is no word for it.
We spent the rest of the day and evening sitting in the living room. I cried all day and night, wishing I could be consoled. I just kept thinking about how my sweet little baby was dead inside of me. I hated it so much. I felt so much dread and sadness. I was afraid of what the next day would bring. So much pain. So much devastation.

I'll never forget how my dad wanted to try anything he could to help me. He ran out and got me a liter of Mountain Dew, my favorite drink of all time, and Doritos and a Butterfinger, which are a couple other favorites. I couldn't bear to eat, but I did allow myself to have the soda. I stayed away from caffeine through my pregnancy so it was nice to have it. Little good my caffeine avoidance had done.

That night, when Daniel and I finally got home, we got into bed. We cried for a while, holding each other so miserably. It was pretty late. Daniel is blessed to be able to fall asleep easily no matter what. I, on the other hand, was awake all night. I cried and cried. I pictured how the next day would go and what it might be like to see our baby. How would she look? Would it be disturbing? Would she look normal? Would she look beautiful and perfect? So many questions and worry. But most of all I was just afraid of how much it would hurt my heart to go through that. The labor to deliver a child is worth it, but to deliver a baby who is not coming home with you is a like a kick in the face.

Of all the days surrounding Avery's death and birth, this day was the hardest. Finding out that the baby I had waited my whole life to have was gone, was really and truly the very worst thing that I have ever been through. Sometimes I still cannot believe that this happened to us and that our sweet little girl is not here. Today is hard for me, reliving the day and remembering exactly how I felt to know our baby died. I will never forget that.

Thank you for reading. These days are so sacred to me.

Day 9: How Three Years Feels

I still cannot believe we're already hitting the three year mark on this road without Avery. So much has changed and yet so much has not changed at all.

I live my day to day life in a relatively normal way, enjoying Jude and Daniel, and taking care of our home. It's the moments that come and the occasional thoughts that haven't really changed. I still want my daughter here. I still miss her. I still feel the scars of those traumatic days that I somehow lived through. They were so emotionally scarring, something impossible to get over. I live on but I don't move on. That is my child. I carried her. She's me and Daniel, just like Jude is. I dreamed her whole life out. That love doesn't just stop. The pain of losing that entire life doesn't just shut off when the pregnancy is over.

I really believe I'd be a bit better off if my situation were different. If Jude didn't have to be the last child we have, I think I'd have a healthier heart and mind. I wouldn't ache so much inside. I will never raise a daughter. I will never buy those irresistibly sweet little girl outfits that rip my heart out when I see them in the stores. All I'll ever have are the few outfits we bought for Avery that still sit in a box in the top of my foyer closet. I can't part with them; they're a fraction of all I have of her... which isn't much to begin with. I lost Avery, and the future daughter I wanted to have. I never thought Jude would be it. I always hoped we had learned all we needed to know from Avery to save Jude and the rest of our children from the same fate she suffered. I thought I had the magical fix during Jude's pregnancy. But that still wasn't enough. It started to happen again. It would have happened again.

I try to be graceful. But sometimes I feel angry. Sometimes I just feel so bitter about all of it... that we couldn't change it, couldn't fix it. That the agony didn't end with losing Avery. We had to lose our future babies too, and endure a rough and frightening start with Jude, that nearly took my life and left me medically dependent. Most times, I just don't understand.

I know if things had turned out differently-- if the Lovenox injections and folic acid pills had been the successful regimen it was supposed to be-- I would still miss and love and ache for Avery, but I think the pain would fade a bit into the background, and not be such an agitated sore. I felt myself healing and accepting Avery's absence when I was pregnant with Jude. As soon as things went wrong at 31 weeks and my doctor gave me the news the changed my entire future, I felt that band-aid rip off, tearing flesh with it. A new wound, a new scar, a new loss. And that's where I am.

Yes, it's been three years since we lost Avery. It sounds like a long time from the outside. It sounds like enough time to get over a baby we didn't know... if you have no idea what losing a baby feels like. Three years is like three months. It doesn't take long for the time to pass, but time and grief are irrelevant to each other. If anything, the passing of time makes it harder. It's been longer since we've been with Avery and were able to touch her, feel her, hold her. As time goes on, everyone forgets. The world moves on even when we don't. I am always feeling like most people in my life forget her, don't count her, and don't remember what we went through. If they do, they don't show it. Some do. Most don't. I wish people would approach the situation through my eyes and not theirs. It's my situation after all. I need the acknowledgment. I cannot be denied her or what I've been through. It makes the difficult life even worse. It makes it harder to truly heal.

My desire is to be the kind of person Avery would be proud of. I want to be strong and happy and inspirational. I don't want to be praised or applauded, but I don't want to be the walking sad story who drags around the darkness of her struggles. I'm trying to be better and feel better. I'm trying not to want what I've always wanted because it hurts too much. I am a work in progress. Always.

Day 5: Happy Memories

In early March of 2010, Daniel and I tagged along on a fun outing to celebrate his father's birthday. Daniel's brother and sister came along too. We went to place that had a go cart track, rides, and arcade games. I was 24 weeks pregnant with Avery so I wasn't allowed on any of the rides-- not even the little carousel!

It was a beautiful day. The weather was perfect. I spent a lot of time sitting by myself while I waited for Daniel and his family to finish each ride. I didn't mind waiting. I sat there thinking about my sweet baby, dreaming of her arrival. Dreaming of holding her and seeing her face. I felt so content even through my impatience. I can't believe how vividly I remember sitting there, watching the carousel, picturing that one day my little girl would ride one, laughing and smiling. I pictured her with curls like her dad.

Every few minutes, Daniel would speed by me on the go cart track and each time he would smile real big and blow me a kiss as he passed by. I loved seeing him enjoy himself and have fun. At the time, he was working three jobs so leisure time was scarce. But his joyful grins and boyish excitement made me so happy that day, knowing all of the beautiful moments that were ahead of us with coming birth of our first baby.

We all had dinner at Hard Rock Cafe. I had chicken fajitas with lots of guacamole, one of my most common cravings when I was pregnant with Avery. I remember as we walked to the car, Daniel's sister asked me what baby kicks feel like. And I told her they feel exactly what you'd think they feel like. I didn't know she should have been kicking much harder than that by then. And I didn't know I'd stop feeling her in just a matter of days.

But on this day, all of those horrors were far away in the unknown, not yet a part of reality or my world. I like to think back to the days before I knew this could happen to us. Before I knew we'd have to face life without her and all of the things we thought we would share with her. I like to remember the joy and the excitement and not only remember the pain and the grief. Avery deserves that. She should never be diminished to a source of agony or a sad story. She is my firstborn, the first to hear my heartbeat from the inside. She made me a mother and she will always be the joy of my heart.

Day 4: Regrets

It's strange how on a frequent basis, I think of blog posts that I would love to write having to do with Avery. Just random and completely out of the blue topics that seem somewhat out of place in normal day to day life -- like I would need an excuse like her impending birthday to get away with sharing these thoughts and memories that I haven't specifically shared before. And guess what? Now that I've presented myself with the liberty to do so, all of the previous mental blog posts have disappeared. Go figure.

This morning, as I was getting ready for the day, I was trying to think of an acceptable topic that I could write about and my mind wandered to my regrets. Yes, even three years later, I still dwell on the things I regret surrounding Avery's death... And her life as well.

I regret that we didn't try getting any clothing for Avery to wear. I know we weren't sure how small she would be but I wish we'd tried. I know going out shopping was the last thing I wanted to do while I carried my dead baby inside of me but maybe it would have broken up the sickening monotony of the waiting. To this day, doll clothes haunt me as I pass by them in stores. I mentally evaluate whether it would have fit Avery or not. Usually I quickly decide that it would have and the regret washes over, wishing I'd done that for her. I never got to dress my daughter.

I also regret that I didn't bring my own ink pad or get some kind of kit to take impressions of her hands and feet. The hospital did give us a few sets of her footprints but they only did one of her hands and you can barely tell what they are. I wish they'd done a better job. I wish I'd brought my own ink and done it myself.

I regret that I forgot about Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep. I wish they could have been there to photograph Avery. Because it was up to us with (at the time) our point and shoot, we don't even have a family portrait. I regret that so much-- that I didn't realize we hadn't taken a family photo. I don't care how sad of a photo it would have been. At least we would have it. I wish the hospital knew to contact NILMDTS. Several things left me feeling like I was their first ever stillbirth. I wasn't even given any information on grief and loss and how to cope.

I regret giving Avery my name as her middle name. I wish it was something beautiful like Grace. After my grandmother. Instead it's Nicole. Just filler. I'm not a fan of naming my children after us. At the time I guess it made me feel like she would always have a piece of me and now I feel it's just lack of time and creativity. And we always thought we could have another daughter. Surely, her middle name would have been Grace.

I regret that we chose Avery's stone so quickly. It was the day after her funeral and for some reason I felt like it had to be done as soon as possible. I don't know why I felt that way, as if there was no option to wait. I wish it said something better, sweeter. I wish we'd spent more time waiting for a better design. Sure, hers is pretty, but I still think it could have been better.

I know Daniel wishes he'd been one of Avery's pallbearers. We didn't know he had the option. It may seem strange but he wishes he could have laid our baby girl to rest for the last time. Instead, it was the funeral director (who thankfully is a friend of my father's) and a random cemetery grounds worker. I regret that we didn't know to ask more questions. I wish the professionals involved who weren't blinded by grief had spent more time with us to let us know what our options were and what we may wish we had done.

I regret that I didn't start blogging sooner. And that I didn't start when Avery was still alive. I kept a personal journal though at least. Blogging helped me so much. Maybe I would have started healing sooner if I'd started sooner.

So right now, these things are my regrets. Why think about them? Why torture myself with what I can't change? Well, sometimes you can't help the what ifs. But I'm hoping that in sharing mine, maybe someone who reads them will be more prepared if, God forbid, they find themselves in a similar situation. Also, in a world where baby loss is a hushed taboo, I find it important to express the lasting effects of loss. And to remind anyone who might think that time or Jude could erase her, that she still matters very much.

Day 2: Avery's letters

I grew up very sentimental and nostalgic. I had planned for a while to write letters to my babies. I started Avery's journal of letters when we began trying to get pregnant with her. I guess I just couldn't wait, and it kept me busy for those five months while we waited impatiently for that positive result.

My relationship with my daughter started long before the day she was born. I dreamed her my whole life. I wanted her since I was a child. Daniel and I talked about our children even while we were just dating. When we were only engaged, we had Avery's name picked out. We decided to start a family just eight months after we got married. (We even wanted to start sooner, but we felt obligated to become more financially secure first. Yeah, we still aren't.) The first letter in this journal is dated April 14, 2009, the three year anniversary of when we started dating.

It was so surreal to make that decision to have a baby. I remember it so well. I couldn't believe I was finally going to live the rest of my dreams (Daniel being my first dream). Excited doesn't even describe how I felt. We even went out to an expensive restaurant (thanks to my parents) to celebrate the beginning of our journey.

Of course, there was that fear that I wouldn't be able to get pregnant, and even when I did, I feared miscarriage for the first trimester. I would write my letters and I had a thought in the back of my mind... What if I lose this baby? What about these letters? A part of me worried that my baby would never read them. I wish I hadn't been right. Even so, I kept writing them, believing everything would be fine like it was supposed to be, like it always was for everyone around me.

I introduced myself to Avery in the letters, told her my thoughts about being her mother. Daniel wrote a couple of letters, telling her about his three jobs and the fun things he dreamed of doing with her. I wrote because my longing to be with her was so strong, I had to do something. And I formed a love and a relationship with her, even deeper than it already was from my desires that stemmed since childhood. I already loved her. I didn't need to meet her first. She was so wanted.

I decided that I wanted to share "a few" excerpts from this journal of letters. I always feel the need to express how much Avery was loved while she was alive so it can be better understood why she is still so loved even now. She matters. She is part of our family. She isn't just a lost pregnancy. She isn't the loss of something that never was. She was and she is.

"I was looking at baby clothes today at Baby Gap just for fun while I was out shopping with my mom, your Grandma! Oh, it made me want you! I almost feel like I miss you. But I can't say that cuz I've never had you. But I already love you, and I care about you, and I think about you... so it makes me sad that you're not here with me. I guess that's what makes me feel like I miss you. I don't know how else to describe it. One day, Baby!" - May 18, 2009 (almost a month before we started trying)

"I'm a little nervous. Not about having you, but about being able to easily get pregnant and to be able to keep you without anything going wrong. I need to not worry, but you are what I've wanted since I was a little girl. I guess it seems too good to be true that I get to have you soon!" - June 5, 2009

"Baby! We found out on the 16th that you are here with us!! As of today, I'm only 5 weeks and 2 days along but you are growing everyday! Daddy and I were so excited when we read the test and it said 'Pregnant,' I have been praying to see that for so long! You are what I have dreamed of my whole life. You and your Daddy... and of course your future siblings someday. :) Everyone is so excited that you're coming! I can't wait to find out if you're a boy or a girl. I can't wait until I can feel you living inside me. Stay healthy, baby! I can't wait to meet you and I already love you!" - October 22, 2009

"I haven't been feeling too well lately, but I don't even care. I'm just so thrilled that you're here with me. I pray for you all the time, that you're healthy and that God will keep you safe. Sometimes I'm so scared that something could happen to you. I shouldn't ever think like that, but I guess it's just cuz I want you so badly." - November 12, 2009

"We've moved to a new house since I wrote you last. This is the house you'll come home to. I picture cuddling with you in these rooms and I can't wait 'til you're here with us." - December 11, 2009 (right before our very first ultrasound)

"Hello Baby, I think about you constantly. I wonder what you think about. I know you're young and don't understand life yet but I know that you experience sensations and some emotions. I bet you're happy -- all warm and nourished. I wish I could see you. You're so close to me, within me, and yet you seem so far away. I can't wait until we can find out what gender you are, so I can know who you are -- who it is I've been loving. My son or my daughter. Jude or Avery." - December 16, 2009

And then on March 30, 2010...

"My sweet Avery Nicole, It's been 20 days since you met Jesus. It's been 17 days since I held you for the first and last time. Something suddenly went wrong and we lost you. You were born on March 13, 2010 at 5:05am, a beautiful Saturday morning, weighing 8.2oz and just 8 1/4in long. Despite the fact that you were already gone, you were still so beautiful and perfect. Daddy and I already loved you, so seeing you just deepened that love. We held you and kissed you and savored you for about 7 hours before we said goodbye. Oh. baby girl, that was the hardest thing I've ever done. I relive those moments with you over and over. We miss you so desperately, Avery! Your funeral on Tuesday, March 16th was bittersweet. So many people came. So many people love you as if you'd been here a lifetime. It was so hard to see your small, pretty, white casket, knowing you were inside it instead of in my arms... or in my belly where you should still be. It's so hard without you here, sweet girl! I cry all the time cuz it hurts so bad. But it's not your fault. God needed you. We don't know why, but we believe He had a special purpose for you. I'm so proud of you, Baby! You touched so many lives and you changed people. I miss you, my sweet Avery. I wish I could cuddle with you right now. I hope you're having fun in Heaven. Picturing you playing and laughing always makes me feel a little better. I love you, sweet girl. Forever, Mommy."

Flashback : 1.21.11

Today, two years ago (two years already?!), we found out I was pregnant with Jude. I remember it so well, still. Such an amazing and unbelievable day.

It was so difficult, trying again for another baby, when we were supposed to be raising our little girl but weren't. The fear mixed with the excitement mixed with the frustration. Not only was I trying for something I was supposed to already have, it was taking longer than it should. For couple who struggle with infertility, I know nine cycles is a dream. But for me, who is supposedly "normal" is that department, it was just another nagging thing. I can't imagine being one of those women who get pregnant on the first try... or even on accident. I can't fathom how that's possible.

So today, two years ago, as soon as I got up that morning, I dragged Daniel into our bathroom and took a test. I wanted to just put myself out of my misery and see that we failed yet another month. I thought it would be easier for the test to tell me than to wait for my body to. We stood there for just seconds, it seemed, as the little hourglass displayed on the digital screen. Suddenly, there was just one beautiful and alarming, glorious and terrifying word: Pregnant. I couldn't believe it. I let out a joyful shriek and threw my arms around Daniel. It was the beginning of a lovely and scary journey that would end in both victory and defeat.

Pregnancy after loss is such a rollercoaster of emotions. In one moment, you can feel both excited and scared. Both confidence and doom. The bliss is gone, but there's still so much joy in carrying life again, in the same exact spot where there was so much loss. I remember I used to think about how strange it was to have Jude dancing around where Avery died. That his heart beat exactly where hers stopped. He is the only person to be in the very place where she lived, and the very place she passed away.

Her death saved his life... Her death is the reason he is even here, just as he is. I never would have gotten pregnant two Januaries ago if Avery had lived. She'd only be 2 1/2 right now if she'd made it to her due date, so I doubt we'd even have another baby by now. Even when we would give Avery a sibling, in this alternate universe where she never died, it wouldn't be the Jude we know now. He would be a completely different person. It's crazy to think of that. I'd never change Jude, but I wish Avery was here.

I'm so grateful how everything turned out with my second pregnancy, despite the new horrors that came with it. Standing in my bathroom with that positive test in my hand, I was not promised that our second baby would make it here alive. There was so much left to uncertainty. So much fear and worry. So much hope and joy. I've never prayed more in my life than I did when I was pregnant with Jude. Most days, I begged God for his life. I thank God He brought Jude here safely, even if it was too early and not the experience I dreamed of. I'm so glad this day in our history is still a happy day, the day we found out our boy was coming.

"Mighty glad you stayed..."

Capture Your Grief : Day 30 // Tell the world

If I could tell the world one thing about grieving a lost baby, no matter the gestation, is that it's a real, legitimate pain. That our babies are real and they still belong to us. We don't mourn for just a moment. We lost them for a lifetime and that's how long we have to cope without them. I wish people were more willing to be empathetic and just imagine being in the shoes of a bereaved parent. Most say "I can't even imagine what you're going through." Why not? Just picture what it might be like, imagine the horror and the agony. For anyone who's ever loved a child, it's not hard to imagine that life would be hell without them. No one would ever want to erase the joy and the beauty of the years with their child, just like we did not want to give up those years.

Above all, I desire for everyone to count Avery. If I consider her my child then there is no question. It's not up for discussion. It's not for anyone else to decide. Just because she wasn't here long or because some didn't have the chance to see her, it doesn't change how real she is and that she existed. Her heart beat on this earth beneath mine. She is in Heaven waiting for us and we will be with her again. Jude does not replace her. Death does not erase her. Time does not erase her.

I long to know she is remembered. I long to hear that she's missed. I love to hear her name and to know she's crossed someone's mind. That is such a gift to any bereaved person. No matter who you have lost. The first horror is losing them. The second horror is that they will be forgotten.

I have two children. Not just one. Someone very special came before my sweet boy. She is the reason he is here.

Capture Your Grief : Day 28 // Memory

It's been so difficult for me to choose one significant memory that stands out above the rest... the one I want to single out and share. So many moments come to mind immediately. The ultrasound where the tech wouldn't say what we already knew. Calling my mom to tell her Avery was gone... The list is endless.

I think though that the tenderest moment, one that I cannot and do not want to forget, is when Daniel and I were left completely alone with Avery in the hospital room. We were saying our final goodbye to her and spending our last moments ever with our daughter on this earth.

Daniel sat down with me on the bed and took Avery into his hands. We looked at her together, huddled close, tears streaming down our faces. I remember looking up at Daniel, miserably, and saying, "Daniel, what happened to our little girl?" It was almost pleading, begging him to give me answers I couldn't find, but knew full well he couldn't either.

I picked up the camera and took more photos of her, capturing her ink stained feet one more time. As I snapped more photos, I realized how much she was physically deteriorating. It felt unfair to keep taking her picture, as if I was compromising her dignity. I set the camera down and Daniel and I both agreed it was time for her to go. For us to give her up and say goodbye. It was the hardest thing we've ever had to decide together. Something we never thought we'd discuss... Not what color to paint the living room, or what to make for dinner... We had to decide that it was time to say goodbye to our daughter, after just seven hours with her. To give her to a nurse to take away so the funeral director could pick her up and take her to the funeral home to prepare her for her casket. How could we endure that? I still can't fathom it, though I've been living it for two and a half years.

It was God orchestrated that our pastor happened to arrive then to pray with us. He'd been away on a trip to Tennessee and just happened to get back in time, before Avery was taken away. Everyone came back into the room as Pastor John (one of my old high school teachers, my old youth pastor, the pastor who married Daniel and me) prayed over us. I do not remember what he prayed; all I could do was stare at my little girl, desperately trying to memorize every inch of her, the curves of her face and the feel of her skin. I ached to remember her always. Every precious detail.

Daniel made the horrific call to the front desk, requesting that the nurse come take our baby. It was awful. I don't know how I actually managed to hand Avery over to nurse. How I let her little body leave my hands for the last time. As the tears flow now, recalling it, I know they poured then.

After the nurse took Avery, she turned around to place her into the bassinet. I waited for her to move so I could take one last glance at my little girl before she was gone forever. But to my horror, when the nurse moved to the back of the rolling bassinet, I saw Avery was covered with a blanket... just like a dead body under a sheet.

I felt angry and upset that my last chance to see her was taken away. In these moments, this was not a dead body, a stillborn baby... This was my daughter, my precious baby, my little girl. She looked like her Daddy. And in this last second, I was angry on top of my grief. If that nurse could have just waited until she wheeled the bassinet across the room and behind the curtain before she covered her... It probably never occurred to her what a big deal that was. I'm sure she was just doing her job, shielding all of the normal happy moms that might be out in the hallway from seeing my dead baby. But she ruined my last moment. Maybe it shouldn't matter, but to me it does. She was the only nurse who took care of me during Avery's birth that had never experienced a loss. And she was the only one who did insensitive things... more than once.

Despite the nurse's inability to meet our needs, our last moments with Avery were so tender and precious. I felt so much love for Daniel, that we were holding each up through this, facing it together. And even though I felt so sick with grief and devastation, such a sense of dread and reluctance, I still felt so much love for that little girl. I still do.

Happy Birthday, sweet Jude

It's July 31st. I can't believe it.

A whole year has gone by, yet I feel like Jude just came into the world. Right now, last year, I was in the hospital once again, staying overnight for observation after another bout of high blood pressure. My doctor had me admitted, mostly for my own peace of mind, since she knew how fearful I was for Jude's safety.

Before discharging me the morning of the 31st, my doctor ordered an ultrasound, just to be extra thorough. Within minutes, I was told Jude would be coming in an hour because the pressure in the cord was very high and causing him too much stress. It was such a shock at first. At first I felt relieved, like I'd finally be able to breathe for the first time in eight months, knowing that, sadly, he'd be safer outside of my body. But then I was overcome with so much reluctance, holding my belly for the last time and feeling Jude's last kicks while I waited for them to take me away for the emergency c-section. I couldn't shake the notion that my pregnancy was being ripped away from me prematurely, once again.

I was put under for the c-section because I had been on blood thinners. It was too dangerous for a spinal; I could have bled out. So being put under was the only option, which also meant Daniel wasn't allowed in for Jude's birth. I still hate these situations. That neither Daniel nor I were there to see our sweet boy come into the world. Daniel only saw Jude for a few seconds before they whisked him away to the NICU, where he stayed for the next 32 days.

Jude Wesley was born at 12:37pm, at 31 weeks gestation, weighing 3 pounds 1.1 ounces, and was 15.5 inches long. I was told he was very content for such a premature baby. He was born so stressed, but calmed so much after. My body was doing to him exactly what it did to Avery. The placenta was once again failing. My doctor later said Jude probably wouldn't have made it another day. I am so grateful, so thankful that I knew to go to the hospital the previous evening. That I had the intuition that something wasn't right. I thank God for the wisdom of my doctor, who did exactly what was needed before it was too late.

Our families all met Jude within a couple hours after his birth. I was still recuperating from the bleeding issue I had during my surgery. I didn't get to see my little boy at all the day he was born. It's so strange to think about that. He was here but I wasn't with him. Definitely not the typical birth experience. Neither of mine have been, that's for sure. I wish I knew what it was like to carry a baby to term, to go into labor, to give birth to a living baby that I immediately get to hold, and to take that baby home just a day or so later. I'll never know. But I do know the joy of my sweet Jude... and that's definitely enough.

I am so honored to be Jude's mom. He is an amazing baby, such an incredible little person. I can already see his personality and his little heart. He is precious and sweet. He is silly. He is so strong, the first thing he ever was, here in this world, fighting to live. My tiny son is my hero. He is truly a miracle. Truly.

And today, Jude turns 1. It's bittersweet for us. We love our little boy and he just gets bigger and bigger everyday. We miss the tinier days. They get further away with each moment that passes. We embrace these new moments and we love and savor them, but we know we can never go back. We can never share these same sweet stages with any other children. These were the sacred times we lost with our only daughter, and these are the times we cling to with our son. Despite that, today is a victory. Jude is here. He's healthy and alive. He gets to grow up. I just wish he wouldn't do it so quickly!

Jude, Daddy and I are so proud of you. You fill our lives with so much joy. Each day is beautiful just being with you... watching you learn and play, seeing your smile and hearing your laughter. I love you more than life. Happy 1st birthday, sweet sweet boy.

“... and she loved a boy very, very much-- even more than she loved herself.”
― Shel Silverstein, The Giving Tree

Flashback: July 24-25, 2011

Yesterday, last year, I hit the 30 week mark in my pregnancy with Jude. And that was the day my perfect pregnancy went downhill. Everything had been amazing and been going so well. It was a completely different pregnancy than Avery's. 'Night and day,' as my doctor put it.

But early in the morning on July 24th, I had a terrible pain in my upper abdomen, prompting me to go to Labor & Delivery. It turned out that my blood pressure was spiking and the enzymes in my liver were elevated. No longer the perfect, healthy pregnancy I thought I was having. I believed we'd fixed everything that went wrong with Avery and that it would be different this time. But we were all wrong.

I was admitted to the hospital that morning. They monitored Jude and my blood pressure. It was going up and down way too much to put me on medication. To be safe, I received a round of steroid injections to help mature Jude's lungs if things were to worsen. That was the best thing they could have done for me. I really believe that's what helped Jude do so well when he was born just a week later.

Today, last year, I was discharged from the hospital. They did an ultrasound on our sweet boy to make sure he was doing alright. He passed his NST and looked great. But I was to monitor my blood pressure at home and make sure it didn't stay elevated for long periods of time.

I remember spending the next several days so nervous. My dreams of a normal pregnancy were once again shattered, but I still had high hopes that it would be several weeks before we had to face any pregnancy-ending situations. I didn't know I'd be admitted to L&D once again in just five more days.

NICU visit {7.13.12}

It had been ten months and twelve days since we stepped out of the NICU for the very last time. That last long trip down that endless hall of labor and delivery. Bringing Jude out with us into the light of day for the very first time. And we've meant to go back but time slips away in such an unreal manner lately. I feel like I'm living my life in fast forward. It just goes much too quickly.

On July 13th, Daniel and I finally brought Jude back to the hospital where I had both him and Avery. I wanted to visit my favorite nurse, Daniele, who has always played such a special role in both of my birth stories. She is the one who sat down with Daniel and I and told us that Avery was gone (even though we already knew). She was the one who got me settled in my room to induce to deliver Avery. She shared with us, the story of the sweet baby she lost and we bonded over that. I saw that there could be a light at the end of such a devastating blow. If Daniele was still standing, then I knew one day I would get back on my feet as well. She and I kept in touch over the next year. Then, when I was having issues during my pregnancy with Jude, Daniele was there again. She was the one who told me he would be born early... that he'd be coming "in about an hour." She helped prep me for my emergency c-section. She was there when Jude was born and she was the one who took the first photos of him. Daniele took me to see my sweet boy for the first time. She was there in the coming weeks, when we'd come visit our baby. Daniele made sure to come visit me when I ended up in the hospital with pulmonary embolisms. She took care of me so much. There to comfort me and make me laugh, even in the darkest of times. She is amazing and I am so grateful to know her.

And then it was off to the NICU. It was so odd to walk down that hall again, like we had countless times last summer. The smell, the slight chill in the air, the sounds. All so incredibly familiar. It suddenly didn't feel like it had been so long since we'd last roamed these halls daily, praying for that phase of our lives to end. For this place to no longer be a reluctant second home.

It was so strange, yet so oddly normal picking up that phone and requesting to be let into the NICU. Daniele had told them we were coming to visit, so they let us right in. I can't even describe how it felt to see that long room again, stretched out before us. The soft light, the calm quiet mixed with the sounds of fragile life, the isolettes, the beeping and chiming monitors. It almost felt like we never left. It almost felt like home. So familiar and normal. Yet distant and vague.

The nurses couldn't believe their eyes when they saw Jude. They all made such a fuss over him; how much he's grown and how healthy he looks. He's like a different baby. It was nice to hear that we did such a great job with him, even though all we've done is love him and take care of him.

Sonal, one of our favorite nurses, was there. She was the one who cut Jude's cord when he was born. She took care of him a lot when he was there in the NICU, and we liked her very much.

It was great to see her and a few of the other nurses, and to tell them how Jude is doing, what he likes, and all the amazing things he can do. ;) He's come such a long way. I love how they still cared about him, even after all this time. Nicole, one of the nurses, ran into their break room and grabbed the thank you card and photos I had sent around Christmas time and showed us that they'd been hanging on their bulletin board. It made me so happy to know that he's so special to them, that they never forgot.

The most amazing thing was to visit Jude's little area of the NICU. The back left corner, right by the supply shelf. That's where he spent most of his first 4.5 weeks. To bring him back to that spot, as he is now, as we are now, all this time later. To watch him touch the thick plastic of the isolette from the outside... such a strange feeling. Victorious, maybe.

I still can't believe we have walked this journey. It's astounding to look back at where we've come from and where Jude began. I am eternally grateful that our fragile, tiny baby has grown into this strong, smart, and incredible little boy. 

There's a crib in our house

Today was a big day for us. The baby's crib arrived and we eagerly picked it up at the store. I grabbed our camera and perched myself across the room to take in all the moments of Daniel putting it together. It was so special to us, to be doing that. To be taking this leap of faith and making this baby a permanent thing in our lives. Not fleeting or momentary.

I am only 15 weeks pregnant, which would be "out of the woods" for normal people. I won't be out of the woods until our baby is here, in our arms. But I don't want to think about that. I refuse to imagine that this baby will meet his or her big sister anytime soon. So we prepare like normal people, being excited and doing the things we should be doing. I think that's how God would want us to live. Trusting Him, putting all of our faith in Him, hoping with all our might. That's what we strive for. It feels good to do that.

And now, there is a gorgeous black wood crib in our third bedroom. Some may take adding a crib to their home as something mundane and typical. But we find it monumental. I adore it completely. It's perfect. I cannot wait to open the bedding at my baby shower that will adorn that sweet little bed.

This is all so exciting. We're experiencing things we never got to experience with Avery. It's bittersweet but it's also very healing and wonderful. I have an ultrasound tomorrow to check for growth. I'm excited to see our little love. It always eases worry and brings so much joy to my heart. We also have a 3D gender ultrasound next Tuesday. Can't wait!

Monumental

Yesterday was a huge day for Daniel and I as parents. We made two purchases for this baby that we never had the chance to make with Avery. I know I'm only 14 weeks and I have yet to pass 25 weeks still pregnant, but we decided to step out in faith and make more preparations for this little one.

We went to Orlando yesterday with Daniel's brother, Andy, Andy's fiance, Margaret, and my three brothers: Ron, Shaun, and Sam. All four guys are in Andy and Margaret's wedding next month so we all headed to the mall for them to get their wedding clothes. After the mall and getting some dinner, everyone was nice enough to accompany Daniel and I to a store across the street called Macrobaby. We had just gotten our tax return so we thought it might be fun to take a look.

I've been looking at diaper bags online and in regular stores and have never seen anything I like enough so I immediately headed to their large display of them. I was appalled by some of the crazy prices, but I did find one that I loved that was reasonable. I wore it in the store to make sure I really liked it. Daniel and I decided to buy it. I was so thrilled!

When we got back home, I started looking online once again at cribs. Being at the baby store really got me excited about buying some things for the baby. Daniel and I thought it would be a good idea to purchase a crib and not leave everything to our families and the baby shower. I found one that had really good ratings and it even came with a bonus mattress for no extra charge! It's black and the exact style I was looking for. We decided to buy it. I felt so excited and a little nervous, filling out the information online to finalize our purchase. I looked at Daniel before I clicked 'place my order.' I got tears in my eyes, thinking about what we were doing. Something we never got to do with Avery. We were buying our baby's crib. I clicked the button and I was immediately filled with joy.

There was no worry about it being too soon. I didn't feel like we were too hasty. All it did was make us so happy. The crib should arrive by April 14th- mine and Daniel's five year anniversary of when we first started dating.

My feelings about this baby have been a roller coaster so far. Last week I was beginning to feel scared again. But now I am choosing to be filled with joy and savor every moment of this little life inside of me. Worrying will not keep my baby healthy. So why not be happy? I cannot live in fear. Fear won't save this baby. I am trusting God. I'm ready to do that now.

I am officially in my second trimester as of today. 14 weeks along. I'm happy to be out of the miscarriage fear stage, but I know that's not where my body has failed me. I refuse to obsess about that though. I am enjoying my rounding stomach, feeling pregnant already. I think my stomach was this size at the end with Avery at just 25 weeks. That's how small she was and how much my pregnancy was not thriving. I didn't feel remotely pregnant until 18 weeks with her. I've felt pregnant since week 12 this time. I think that's a good sign.

I have one more thing to report. I really think I felt the baby last night! I'm afraid to fully believe that it definitely was the baby and not my stomach, but it sure felt like it felt with Avery. Sweet little flutters. I can't wait to feel it all the time and watch my belly move. It's going to be the best thing next to taking this little love home with us. <3

Sweet dreams

I always have crazy dreams when I'm pregnant. With Avery, I used to dream about male celebrities (like Michael Castro and Jason Segel haha!) as if I were some crazy teenager. It was really silly and innocent but I'd tell Daniel about them in the morning and we'd just laugh. With this baby, the dreams are different. Most are odd, but there are definitely many a night.

A few nights ago, however, I had a beautiful dream about this precious little one I carry. In my dream, I was in the hospital, having just given birth. There was no sadness. The baby didn't come early and wasn't born still. I remember thinking how surreal it felt that I was going to hold this baby and hear a cry, see sweet eyes looking at me, see movement, feel warmth. Daniel climbed into the bed next to me as they handed me the baby. It was a girl. I just cried as I looked at her and could not believe she made it here and she was mine. It felt so real in my dream, like I can imagine it happening this way in real life. It was so realistic that I remember my doctor sewing me up as I barely noticed her and stared at my precious baby. Then I called my mom and when she answered, all I said was, "She's here." Strange that my mom wasn't present for the birth, but that's what makes it fantasy! Haha...
I woke up at this point, wishing I didn't have to leave that perfect scene, but fortunately, when I fell back to sleep, the dream continued! Sort of...

I was back in the same hospital room. The baby wasn't with me at the moment, but all was still perfectly well. People were visiting me and there were so many gifts everywhere. This time, the baby was a boy. For some reason, his name was Hayden, as if it just happened that way and I was just going to let it be. While I was looking through some outfits someone dropped off, I realized I could pick the name and it didn't have to be Hayden. I really don't know where my mind got that name. It's not even on my list of favorites. I quickly decided, the baby would be Jude, just as it will be in real life if this little one is a boy.

Towards the end of the dream, I just remember feeling so happy and relieved. That this pregnancy was over and there were no more worries. It felt so amazing to have my child here on earth... with us. I loved it so much.

Of course, the next day and even now, it's left me feeling a bit anxious and impatient for this little love of ours. I do worry some days and that can be tiring. It will be nice when he/she is here and there is no more fear. I know things can happen to a living child here on earth, but at least most things are preventable and there's more control over it. I can't even see my baby to see how he/she is doing. It's scary. Plus, I ache so much to hold this baby, just like I still ache to hold Avery.

I have dreamed of being a mother since I was old enough to play with dolls. It has literally been my one and only dream in life. So much so that I never developed any career goals for myself. This is all I've ever wanted. I will be fully content with my life even if all I ever do with it is be a mother. <3

13 week rambling

I am now 13 weeks pregnant with this precious baby. Just one week left of the first trimester. It's nice to know I'm out of the woods in miscarriage territory, but in my case, that's not the worry here. Yes, I worried a bit anyway (especially when some of my precious fellow BLMs (baby loss moms) miscarried their sweet rainbows) but I know my problem lies later on in pregnancy. I do like to believe that all this baby needs is for my blood to be thinner, which is what my daily injections are doing. Maybe that's all that went wrong for Avery. Blood clots forming in her cord that cut off her nutrients. Maybe that will never happen again now that we know what is wrong with my body. These are the thoughts I have a lot of the time, convincing myself that I'll never know additional loss. And a lot of times I really believe it.

I already feel physically pregnant. Last week, my stomach started to round out a lot more. I'm not tiny to begin with, but with Avery, I didn't think I looked pregnant at all until about 18 weeks. Here I am, at 13 weeks, looking pregnant and not just fat. I would say that means this baby is doing well, on track for size. Avery never was and they never noticed.

I've already been able to find baby's heartbeat with our doppler twice in the past two weeks. I love it so much. But as soon as I find it and Daniel confirms that it's not my pulse that I've found, I just start laughing and lose it again. I can't imagine ever taking that precious heartbeat for granted.

Lately, I'm feeling impatient about finding out baby's gender. I have an appointment with the perinatologist again on May 13th when I'm just two days shy of 20 weeks. I'm pretty sure they'll do another ultrasound and I'd assume they could tell me the sex of the baby by then. That's just a little more than 6 weeks away!! I can't wait to put a name to this little miracle. This little one is such an intimate part of us and it feels so wrong not even knowing the gender or name. People have been asking me if I have any intuition telling me which it'll be. At first I had absolutely no inkling whatsoever, but so many people have been saying they think it's a boy. I guess since then, I have been picturing a boy more, but I still find myself picturing a girl too. I really have no preference. I just want to bring him or her home with us! The only thing that makes me prefer a boy is that I have no girls' names that I'm in love with. I have a list of 'okay' names that I'm not even sure I can fathom using. Our boy name is chosen though. He will be Jude. Just like Avery would have been if she'd been a boy. I've loved that name for at least four years now.

I'm so excited to find out who this little love is. But even more excited to bring him or her home with us to stay. <3

10 week ultrasound

We got to see our sweet little love once again yesterday. It had only been two weeks since the last ultrasound, but it's never soon enough to see that tiny miracle.

We have chosen a different imaging place this time because we feel that the one we went to for Avery's ultrasounds was lacking in knowledge. I feel like they should have noticed that something wasn't right with her. Between her lack of proper growth and the way her umbilical cord looked, they should have noticed something. Anything.

Already, I love this new facility. The staff was very warm and welcoming. And my favorite part? There was a screen hanging in front of me so I could actually see my baby. Other places, I've had to crane my neck from the table to see a screen facing sideways. I always hated that.

I couldn't believe how much the baby has changed in the last two weeks. At eight weeks, the baby was somewhat of a blob. Our little bean. Now, our little one looks like a small teddy bear, all parts distinguishable. I laughed when I saw our baby move, throwing those little hands and legs up in the air! Avery wasn't that active at twelve weeks when we first saw her! This baby looks so healthy, so lively. I felt so much joy watching the little dances. It's so surreal that we have made a second life to cherish. It's so beautiful to witness life dancing inside of me.



The baby's head is to the right, all limbs visible :)

The baby's heartbeat was 176, just two beats less than two weeks ago. The technician was even able to see the umbilical cord, which isn't always visible this early. She really seemed to think that our baby is doing extremely well. I was thrilled when she did the measurements on the baby and he/she is measuring exactly right, to the day. Perfect! That is so beautiful to hear.



This one shows the measurements and the due date... right on!

I absolutely love seeing our little bear. It eases my heart to know he/she is doing so well. I think as I get into the 20th week and start heading to the 25th week when we lost Avery, I may get nervous. But overall I feel very peaceful and excited. It's unbelievable how much I love this baby. I can't wait to find out who I'm loving and put a name to that sweet little image!!

High risk doctor visit

On Friday, the 25th, Daniel and I went to see the University of South Florida's high risk perinatal team. It was a very long wait; we were there for four hours. But it was worth the time because so many of my fears were laid to rest. Plus... we got to see and hear our sweet baby.

The baby isn't big enough for a good picture yet, mostly just a bean-like blob on the screen. But we could see that precious little heart beating as we heard it. That was priceless. I laid there crying. It was somewhat bittersweet. The last time I had an ultrasound on my baby, she was dead... and there was a flatline across the bottom of the screen. I will never forget how that felt. Being on that table let those memories flood back in and I could not help being emotional... especially after hearing the most beautiful sound ever... the sound of my baby's beating heart. 178 beats per minute. Only measuring one day off in size. So perfect. We've already fallen in love.

After more waiting, Daniel and I got to sit down with the doctor. He was very kind and caring. I really liked that about him. He asked what Avery's name was and how we were doing emotionally. I appreciated that so much. He said I'd be having ultrasounds every four weeks and he's going to order extra tests to make sure it's only the two clotting mutations that I have and nothing else that could put this little one in danger. My favorite part was when he said that pregnancies on Lovenox injections are largely successful. That was a beautiful thing to hear. It made me feel so at ease.

When I first found out I was pregnant again, it was easy to feel like we could lose this one just like we did Avery. But now, I see a future for this baby and I feel a confidence that can only be attributed to my faith in God.