2013

This year was much different. It was probably the most healing year I've experienced since Avery died. Life was relatively normal this year. Of course, it wasn't without conflict, but it wasn't fraught with profoundly earth-shattering circumstances to hurl us off course like previous years. I struggled horribly with my anxiety in the first few months and it wasn't until my writing took off that I felt some relief from that.

Possibly the most thrilling and notable detail of this year would have to be my novel. I can't stress enough how writing has saved me. I was becoming a shell of the person I'd been, so full of fear and sadness. I was constantly worrying about something, convinced that demise was certain at any moment. Writing gave me a reprieve, new thoughts to dwell on, something to be excited about. My characters became special to me and their fictional world my refuge. It might sound crazy to those who don't write, or to those who haven't experienced emotional turmoil. But this was the change I needed. 

Sure, I still have my occasional setbacks and I still have bouts of anxiety and worry, but I am no longer paralyzed by the darkness that was consuming me. My monthly doctor appointments don't grip me with fear any longer. I've learned to contain my thoughts better. 

The struggle I do still deal with is the insatiable desire for more children. As Jude gets older, it only gets worse. He is growing up alone, not even with any cousins, and I long for him to share life with someone like him. I grew up with three brothers who, to this day, remain my very best friends. It hurts that Jude won't know that bond. I find myself still holding onto hope that someday surrogacy will be possible, because that's all I have. I'm not sure what plans God has, but hope is greater than despair. 

New babies are still painful to me. Pregnant women still have me turning my head the other way. It still hurts very much and it's so difficult to be stuck in this place where everyone else around me can move along in their life while I cannot. 

I turned the big 30 this year, which I'm still in disbelief of. I don't think 30 is old, I just can't believe that I'm here already and that time has gone so quickly. Jude turned two in July and that is crazy to me as well. Didn't we just bring him home? 

We lost Bailey this year, but I was surprised to find how quickly I was able to get past it. I guess after losing my own daughter and my grandfather, the loss of a pet wasn't quite the crisis I'd imagined it would be.

Daniel left his CNA job at the health and rehab center and now works at a hospital. He's so much happier and I love that. Lately he's been caring for an elderly man in his home a few days a week and that has definitely helped us out financially. Less stress is nice! Next week, Daniel will begin nursing school to get his RN. I know that will open up so many more opportunities for him and a better life for us a family. 

I pray 2014 is gentle and kind. I pray I can continue on this better path. I look forward to watching my precious boy grow and learn. I will be finishing my book soon and will be publishing it in the coming months. I am very excited about that! 

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 8: Tribute

In the early days, reaching out to other mothers like myself was very comforting. There was something therapeutic in having someone who understood the pain. Through our blogs and then later Facebook, we banded together and tried to help each other somehow feel better. We did whatever we could to remind each other that our babies are important to this world, no matter how long they lived, whether they took a breath on this Earth or not. We all needed that so terribly.

One of the biggest ways we honored each other's children was writing their names and taking a photo. One day, while at the beach, I wrote as many names in the sand that I could think of and took photos. I posted them on Facebook, tagging the mothers of those sweet babies. They loved it. And I loved making them happy, if just for a moment. The photos that I have received have been such a blessing to me. I've printed them and added them to Avery's much too short photo album. The fact that someone who doesn't even know me in real life thought of my precious daughter and took the time to write her name and photograph it has such an impact.

I've asked my followers on Instagram if they would do the same in honor of Avery's 3rd birthday. As these years pass, it's easy to feel like people forget. The pain of Avery's absence is still so present for us. It's not ever going to go away. So I felt like I needed a boost. Some proof that people do care about her. A sweet gesture that can bring some comfort on these hard days, that each year, take me further and further away from her.

I thought I would ask here on my blog as well, if anyone reading is interested in contributing a photo with Avery's name, I'd love to post it here in a few days along with the Instagram submissions. They can be as simple or creative as you want. No pressure! ;) They can be emailed to nicolefeller@gmail.com (or posted on Instagram under the hashtag #myaverynicole). Thanks!

Thank you, CarlyMarie, Kristin, & Kalialani

Blog thoughts

I've been thinking about my blog a bit lately. It doesn't appear to have too much of a following and usually I'm torn on how I feel about that.

To be quite honest, on the rare occasion that I get an email alerting me of a blog comment, my first reaction is nervousness. Sometimes I fear that someone doesn't like what I have said and has commented to ridicule me on my unpopular grief-induced opinions. This has thankfully never happened but I worry about it. In that way, I'm happy with my very small following, with much less of a chance that someone could attack me. I cannot handle confrontation. Another one of my anxieties. I don't share my blog link in my Instagram profile and I no longer use Facebook so I don't share each post there like I used to. I'm also a little afraid of putting my family out there. If you google image '31 weeks gestation,' Jude is the 19th photo (and the 46th). But when I google 'premature baby boy' Jude is the FIRST photo. It's a little scary to have my precious boy floating around in the cyber world. But I don't know how not to share my story.

On a brighter note, I'm proud of my blog and wish that more people could see it. From time to time, (like last night) I randomly redo my header and I enjoy the way it represents my family and me. With each layout that I come up with, I feel that my design improves. I enjoy being creative and making my ideas come to life in Photoshop. But even more than the aesthetics, I desire for the content to mean something to someone. I would love for others to read my writing and feel less alone. For something to strike a chord in someone's heart because they've read the exact description of what they couldn't put into words themselves. I would love to help people and to use my suffering for good. If I could be a guide for a newly bereaved parent or a comfort to a new preemie parent, or even help a non baby loss person better understand the needs of a bereaved loved one, it would make such a difference for me.

I guess sometimes I worry that Avery has made no impact. That her memory has dulled for the few that knew her here. It's been almost three years since she came and went. With each passing day, her image even in my mind fades a bit more. Without her photos to refresh me, she may be nearly lost by now, no matter how many times I memorized her face in that delivery room. These truths are heart shattering to a mother. For your child to leave no legacy is another loss in itself. But to be able to use that loss to better something or someone. To give purpose to something so devastating. To bring beauty out of such a wretched tragedy. To make beautiful things out of the dust... I've always wanted to do something meaningful. I desire for someone to need me the way I needed someone who knew how this felt when the days were raw with the newness of it all. To cling to a baby loss veteran who could be proof that I would, in fact, smile again.

Does this blog help anyone? Has it made a difference? I would like to think so, even if it was just one person for a fraction of a second. Just one resounding phrase that touched their heart. I love to write. I love to express my heart. I need to. This has been therapy for me these past nearly three years. Blogging was how I met so many amazing women that I never would have found otherwise. I'd be roaming the treacherous streets of this journey all alone.

I have ideas for this blog. I'm adding a 'resources' and 'how to help' page in my navigation section. The resources will point baby loss parents to different websites and organizations that can aid them on their path toward healing. The help page is the one that makes me nervous. I've been working on it, writing more as it comes to me. It's the inevitable 'what to say/what not to say' bit. The what does and doesn't help that I and so many I've met have agreed are true. Something I know I would appreciate if I was struggling to know how to be there for someone who'd lost a child, if it was something I couldn't relate to myself. I'm sure I'll be working on it for a little while, to be sure there's nothing that can rub someone the wrong way. Because as I've already established, I just can't handle that.

With all of the uselessness expressed, I'm glad I blog no matter what. I like that I can come on here and see a running log of our life and how Jude is growing and changing. I love editing and sharing my cherished photos. I enjoy pretending like my life is exciting and important to the world. I like keeping my little girl's memory alive by telling her story and sharing her life. I like having the potential to help people. Anything is possible.

2012 : Finding peace

We started out the year hopeful that it would finally be a calm and normal one. We craved an eventless year. Needless to say, 2010 ravaged and destroyed us to the core. 2011 was definitely better, but still pulled the rug out from under our feet and knocked the wind out of us. 2012 was both good and bad. Joyful and agonizing. That's life, though, isn't it? The bitter sweetness. The constant conflict of happy and sad.

January

Jude turned a whole six months old this month. Four months adjusted, sweet thing. My biggest memory from this month is when Jude had solid food for the very first time. Homemade banana purée. I was excited to see him try something new but so sad watching my baby grow up so quickly.

This month my grandpa celebrated his 80th birthday. (We didn't know it was his last.)

February

This month was tragic. I never blogged about what happened. I meant to but it just seemed at the time that there was no way to put it into words. Our family's pastor and dear family friend lost his 20 year old daughter, Hannah. A gun went off by accident, striking her in the head. She was in a coma for several days. Despite incessant prayers from literally around the world, beautiful Hannah, who we watched grow up, went to be with Jesus. It really shook my faith. I couldn't understand why God didn't save her. I couldn't believe He could allow that to happen to her precious family. Hannah was so young, so innocent. I still think about her all the time. I still ache for her parents and her little sister.

I've since stopped being angry at God for taking Hannah, just like I eventually had to stop blaming Him for Avery's death. I don't believe God does these awful things to us. No doubt, He is aware they will happen beforehand. But no one is exempt from the perils of this fallen world. God knew Hannah would die. He didn't like it. But He will make sure her legacy changes the world. He'll make sure her death was not in vain. He'll make sure souls are saved and hearts and lives are changed because of her. He'll use tragedy to bring about victory. In one way or another, He will and He has.

Also in February, my parents took my family and my brothers away to Tennessee, as they'd been planning for weeks. It was exciting to go away and get a break from everyday life. To take Jude somewhere fun and make some memories with him. At just 6.5 months old, Jude saw snow fall. It took me 28 years to see it!! It was definitely a sight for us Florida folk. We enjoyed our time there as a little family.

March

We celebrated (if you can call it that?) Avery's 2nd birthday in Heaven on the 13th. We released balloons at the cemetery and decorated her grave just like last year. It was surreal and bittersweet to have Jude there for it. For Avery's first birthday, I was 11 weeks pregnant with him, so unsure of whether he would make it here alive. But Jude was able to release a balloon for his big sister this time. I'm sure he had no idea he let go of the string, much less that he was even holding it, but it was still a touching sight for me.

In March, Jude also got his first two teeth and tried a sippy cup for the first time. ;)

April

Jude was sick for the very first time. He was put on nebulizer treatments but was better so quickly. It took him 9 whole months to catch anything! That's pretty good, I think. We're still weird (or just paranoid preemie parents?) and sanitize everything out in public, like restaurant tables and high chairs, shopping carts, etc. I guess it's paid off!

I stopped using Facebook. Yup. Life is so much better. My anxiety, sadly, just cannot take it.

This month, Jude also fell in love with swimming in the pool, usually with my dad. I loved watching him splash and enjoy the water.

April 14th marked six years since Daniel and I started dating. ;)

May

Daniel turned 25.

My grandparents celebrated their 61st wedding anniversary.

Jude had a follow up eye appointment (last one was when he was 5 weeks old). He was perfect, even when they put drops in to dilate his eyes! His eyes were still perfectly healthy. (The reason for his eye appointments was because preemies can suffer eyesight damage from receiving oxygen.)

June

June 1st marked TEN years since I graduated high school Yikes!! Where has the time gone?!

Daniel and I had the honor of photographing my cousin, Jason's wedding. I was very happy with how the photos turned out. It was a lovely day!

We experienced our first ever tornado while at my parents' house one weekend. We all actually had to cram into the bathroom to take cover. It was so loud but was over so quickly. The damage was pretty bad. Trees broken, screen, ripped, roof damaged, glass broken, cars dented... It was crazy!

Avery would have been two at the end of this month had she not passed away. I'll always think of that as my would-be due date of June 22nd comes and goes.

June 30th marked five years since Daniel and I got engaged. ;)

July

Jude experienced his first 4th of July and saw fireworks. We weren't sure how he'd react, but he loved them! We found it a little sad that this holiday was Jude's last 'first.' It goes so quickly!

Daniel and I took Jude to visit the NICU where he stayed for almost five weeks. All the nurses remembered him and were so excited to see him. It was so neat to be back there and to look at the isolette where Jude spent his first few weeks of life. We're so blessed that he's so healthy!

We went away to the beach over night with my parents and brothers. It was Jude's very first time at the beach. He enjoyed the sand and he even liked the Gulf! It was amazing to watch him experience it all for the first time. I love it so much!

This month, Jude started crawling and pulling himself up to stand. He's always a little late with his milestones but as a preemie, it's expected. I know he's smart and that he's just growing and learning at his own pace!

We had Jude's 1st birthday party on the 28th. It was a photo theme, (surprise, surprise!) "One Year Old in a Flash." The colors were aqua and red. My mom and I worked really hard to put it together. It was so much fun and I think it came out great! Jude had such a great time, and a lot of people showed. It was so lovely that my grandparents were able to make it. It was the first and last time my grandpa has ever been to my house (We've lived in three different houses since we've been married and my grandpa didn't get around well). I'm so glad he came. So special.

Thanks to my grandparents' generous birthday gift, we were able to finally buy Jude a 'big boy' car seat and get him out of his infant car seat at a year old!

On July 31st, our sweet boy turned one! His first year went so quickly but was beautiful nonetheless. I spent a lot of it feeling extremely happy but reluctant for time to pass and for Jude to grow up. It was a struggle for much of the year, actually.

August

I think this month was the peak of my anxiety issues. I spent so much of the year, since my blood clots the previous August, battling paranoia and fear over my health. Any twinge of anything sent my mind racing, thinking I was forming a clot or even the opposite extreme... that my Coumadin was causing me to bleed internally. It was ridiculous! I felt like a slave to fear and it was no way to live. I hated it so much. I even started getting anxiety attacks at my monthly blood checks (INR). The one this particular month had my pulse at 127 bpm. The nurses didn't understand my anxiety and started throwing around heart conditions. That did NOT help my fear and got me worrying I had heart problems for a while. I seriously contemplated trying to get on medication for my anxiety. I've since calmed down a lot, but if I'm being honest, would probably still benefit from taking something. :/

September

The 1st marked an entire year since Jude graduated from the NICU. Unfortunately, this day, my grandpa was also admitted to the hospital for congestive heart failure. He never came home. On September 6, my Poppop passed away. It was (and still is) a huge devastation to my family. I still can't believe it sometimes. Aside from Avery, he's the first close family member I've lost. I miss him so much. It's not the same without him here.

Daniel left his CNA job to help take care of my grandma.

Jude stood on his own, got his first diaper rash, got his first fever, moved up to a size 4 diaper, and started waving this month.

October

Daniel and I celebrated our 4th wedding anniversary. How has it only been 4 years? I feel like we've lived a lifetime together!

Daniel went back to his old CNA job. He made plans to go back to college and eventually become an RN.

I turned 29! Again, where are these years going??

Jude was Superman (sort of) for Halloween.

November

On the 12th, Jude had a febrile seizure, which was absolutely horrifying. We were visiting Poppop's grave and it just happened. An ambulance came and Jude spent several hours in the ER. He was perfectly fine and bouncing around like normal by the time we left. I was very scarred for a while after that. At Jude's follow up appointment with his doctor, a blood retest was ordered. The results came back elevated in some areas that concerned the doctor. He wanted Jude retested in two weeks to make sure the levels returned to normal. I worried so badly and was extremely fearful for those two weeks. I cried a lot, so afraid something was wrong with my baby boy. It was the longest two weeks of my life. But thank God, after his retest, his results came back perfectly normal. And that changed a lot of things for me. It helped me finally feel content with just one living child. (I'd still change it if I could.) I stopped dreading Jude growing so quickly. It just helped me heal a lot so I could just live in the now and enjoy my little boy without so much reluctance and wishing.

I saw my doctor for the first time in nine or so months (I usually just see nurses at my monthly visits. I only see the doctor once or twice a year now.) Speaking to him eased so many of my fears and he reminded me how safe I am on my blood thinners. I was so grateful to be able to shed so much of that worry I was carrying around for no reason.

Jude started taking steps this month!

We celebrated Jude's 2nd Thanksgiving. He was teething, working on two molars, so he couldn't fully enjoy eating Thanksgiving dinner for the first time. Bummer!

December

It was so much fun seeing Jude enjoy the Christmas season this year. He loved seeing all the Christmas trees at Home Depot (that's where we Florida folk get our trees!) He loved seeing the lights on our house. He loved the lit up Christmas tree with all the pretty ornaments in our house. He loved our nativity scene and always wanted to hold baby Jesus.

My favorite thing during the season was when we took Jude to the zoo to see Santa and all the lights. He loved it so much! I can't wait to go again next year!

Christmas was so special with Jude. He understood a little better this year.

Jude got a little better at learning to walk. He finished out the year with seven being his record number of steps before falling. ;)

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And that was our 2012. More for my documentation than anyone's enjoyment, I'm sure! My little journal to Jude is much more detailed with some tidbits written for just about every single day. I couldn't bear to stop documenting his days when his first year calendar ended in July, so I kept going, writing it down in a journal. I love keeping track of all his amazing sweetness. I'm sure my above recollection of the year is proof of my notorious sentimentality. I have always been this way, but losing a child and only having the chance to enjoy one child makes it even stronger.

2012 was both wonderful and hard. We always struggle with money. We struggle with our absent child. We struggle with peace. We struggle with the new losses we've acquired this year. This year, I believe we healed the most over our personal struggles. I did lose my grandfather, but besides the pain of that, I'm learning to live with the pains I've been dealing with since Avery died. The pains since I found we couldn't have any more babies. I've found so much more peace in my heart, even while acquiring more hurt. It's a different kind of pain, losing a grandparent. It's inevitable. Never easy, never wanted. Not a day goes by where I don't think about him...

But I thank God for the gift of peace this year. I so greatly desire to enjoy my life and the blessings we do have. I want to dwell on the good and not the bad. I don't want to forget Avery (it's not possible), but I want to feel joy over her life, not just the grief over her death. I will always miss her and grieve her, but I can't live in that devastation anymore. I have to piece it back together for Jude. He won't carry that grief. He will know of his sister, but he didn't experience her loss. I need to be the best version of myself for my little boy. I can't very well do that if I'm still broken and still pining for what I've lost, past and future. He is enough and I can't ever let him question it.

I will still have my moments, my days, of when I fall back into those sad thoughts and bitter mindsets. Loss doesn't go away. But I can choose joy. And that's exactly what I'm doing for 2013. I pray it's our best year yet!

Fear and healing

I never dreamed fear could have a positive outcome. It has plagued me through so many seasons of my life in the past nearly three years. My fear has kept me from so much joy. It's caused anxiety, paranoia, and even hypochondria. But this time, my fear actually set me free.

How could that be? Fear is not from God. Perfect love drives out fear. (1 John 4:18) But in this case, I believe God used my greatest flaw -- my uncontrollable, sometimes paralyzing tendency to worry and fear -- to heal a very broken piece of my being.

This terrible, unnecessary fear set deep within me four days after Jude's seizure. He had a follow up appointment with his pediatrician two days after that horrific ordeal. Everything looked great, his ear infection had even cleared up already. Jude's doctor looked through the charts from the hospital and was not pleased with the practically inconclusive blood test results from the ER. They hadn't been able to get a good sample of Jude's blood so it clumped up a lot, throwing off some of the results. He wanted us to take Jude to get another complete blood count (CBC) just to be thorough. We did just that and I didn't think much of it because Jude seemed fine and it was just a precaution.

Two days after the test, Jude's doctor called me and told me that his levels were a bit off, some varying drastically since his ER lab results just two days prior. His platelets were low and so were his white blood cells. As soon as he mentioned white blood cells, my mind immediately shot to cancer. I felt so sick with worry. The doctor explained that he believed they were both low due to viral suppression from the high fever, seizure, and ear infection. He spoke to a hematologist, who happened to specialize in oncology, just to verify and she completely agreed with him but she wanted Jude to get retested in two weeks to make sure his levels returned to normal. Cue the longest, most fearful two weeks of my life (well... Since the 31 weeks I was pregnant with Jude).

Before hanging up with Jude's doctor that afternoon, he assured me it wasn't time to worry. He expressed his belief that it couldn't be due to any cancer (because you know I asked him about it!) but he confessed his concern. When I hung up, I was close to tears and felt no peace at all. There was no way I could refrain from worrying.

All day, I had a knot in my stomach and that night, after Jude went to bed, I couldn't stop crying. I couldn't help but imagine his next results being no better or even worse. What would it mean? What if something was horribly wrong inside his little body? What if the seizure was a gift from God, so we could find out something was wrong with him before it was too late? All of these morbid fears forced their way into my thoughts. My imagination reeled with sickening visions of losing my baby. I suddenly felt like I was no longer guaranteed a life with my son. I felt like all my mothering duties may be temporary. It was a sick and awful feeling and I tried so hard to push it all away. But over the two weeks, it kept rearing its ugly head.

During that time, Jude started cutting two molars and one incisor all at once. Before we realized this, Jude's appetite changed and he wasn't eating well. Of course, my fear caused me to think something was wrong with him, that he was getting sick from whatever horrific thing was brewing inside him. Noticing the swollen gums, I felt some relief but nearly everyday, Daniel had to convince me that Jude was okay for one reason or another.

For those two long weeks, I felt like I was holding my breath. I was dreading the day we'd have to take Jude back for more blood work. I was dreading the phone call that would proceed. I imagined how my stomach would drop when my phone would ring and I'd see Jude's doctor on my caller ID. I pictured our conversation going so many ways, but naturally, against my will, what I pictured always left me feeling sick to my stomach. But then there was another side of me that couldn't wait to get it all over with. I wanted to be able to really enjoy the Christmas season and I couldn't manage to really do that with all of the fearful unknown looming over my head.

Finally, the day came and went. I prayed so much everyday leading up to it that Jude was healthy and strong. And he is. I burst into tears of relief on the phone with Jude's doctor. He knows me well enough by now and was not surprised by my reaction.

I believed in my heart that Jude was fine but my fear kept telling me I was wrong. It kept whispering ugly lies and planting that seed of worry. It really ate a hole. It festered and tormented. It was so unbearable at times. I felt so weak. I was disappointed in myself for folding so easily. Like it didn't take much for me to fall apart. That I couldn't face the situation with faith and trust, boldly and gracefully holding my head high like a dignified woman of God. But after weighing all of the things I've suffered through concerning my children, I decided to give myself a break. It's okay to be scarred by what's happened to me. I need to be patient with myself. It will take time to live confidently and to shake that paranoia.

So how did all of this fear and obsessive worry actually benefit me? During all of the stress, I kept thinking to myself how hard it was to worry so much about one person. To have so much of my heart, life, and love invested in one person. If I had to worry so much about the well-being of just one person, how could I manage that much more worry for the well-being of even more? The way I started to see it, the more children you have, the higher the chance of something awful happening to one of them. And half of my children are already dead so the odds don't look so hot. Morbid "humor" aside, I think I've endured too much for my heart to handle worrying for so many lives. I carry enough concern for Jude.

The other way the fear helped was in how much I despised the way our normal life twisted into a huge fear fest. I desperately wanted to return to our normal days. I wanted our old life. I missed it. I missed my biggest problem being how I couldn't have all the kids I wanted to have. I decided I'd gladly take that problem over there being something wrong with Jude. I willingly surrender the dreams of my future children for Jude in all his perfection. I'd much rather have "just" him than the possibility of others.

For the first time since I found out I couldn't have any more children, I am content with it. I never thought I would say that. That is the healing the fear brought. It was the lesson it taught me. Jude is enough. He has always been enough but I always longed for more as well. Now, I'm okay. Of course I would have a few more children if things were different and I still wish that were so, but It's okay that I won't have Jonah or Uriah or Ezra (a new beautiful favorite). It feels amazing to accept that. I feel more whole than I have felt in a long time. If it was even possible to love Jude more than I already did, I do.

I feel like the wounds from the babies that were taken away (past and future) have finally stopped bleeding. I feel like I can live my life now. Like I can be happy. That I don't have to be defined by my grief or my suffering. Yes, I am a baby loss mom. Yes, I have two children. Yes, my daughter is in Heaven. But I cannot live in that devastation anymore. Life is beautiful. My family is beautiful. I have so much, despite what I've lost. I know the Glory of God and the love of a husband and son. With humbled and gracious tears in my eyes, I know full well that I am blessed.