Nine Months and still Counting

Her

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7 Months old

Ramblings

Nearly every day I think of a post I'd like to make. Then I think about how little I post and that I should do it more often.....then I get busy. The baby will cry, laundry might need to get folded or the dog will want out and the post leaves me and I forget. 

I wish I had a lap top so I could just pull it up make a quick post of what's on my mind and move on. I know that I have readers......even ones I've never met. I know because my blog over view tells me so. One day I had 47 visits....... I know I've got at least two people in my real life that read, 2 or three I've "met" through the blog world so that leaves 42 people reading my blog that I just don't know about. I often wonder who you are and how you even managed to find this blog. A blog so infrequently utilized, one with little depth or insight.....at least in my opinion. 

I hope that who ever you are reading this mumbo jumbo that you've come here simply because we have something in common. And despite the probably really shitty reason for you finding it that I'm in some way helping you through your pain. Blogs helped me when I needed it. They helped me realize that I wasn't the only one and then that even though I felt crazy I was pretty normal.......for someone so fucked up.

I've been living life. A busy life, and to be honest I never actually thought being a stay at home mom was so much work......I'm busier now than I was when I had a full time job and a social life. And I don't even get out of my grubbies most of the time. To be honest I prefer my grubbies.....I hate putting on make up and getting ready.....it just takes so long.......and I'm lazy like that. So naturally my life is spent in sweats and a tank top, probably a sweater if it's cold out. I even have my "good" sweats. It amazes me that my husband even flirts with me still never mind thinks I'm pretty because half the time I look like a bum....in good sweats ;)

Spencer has been on my mind a lot, and it's mostly been because of how life just goes on. And how it's almost like he was never here. Our life is as it is without him and that pisses me off. It's still a what if and I wonder what- type of thought but it amazes me how things just keep moving. And then, like this morning this song plays on my Ipod 11 Godspeed (Sweet Dreams) while I'm feeding the princess who is seemingly hungry RIGHT THE F NOW! 

As I'm about to shovel apple into her mouth I stop.......I wonder if I should get up and turn it off, move to the next song so I don't have to hear "his song" but I stay still and listen. Then at the top of her lungs my demanding daughter reminds me that I'm feeding her and shes HUNGRY RIGHT NOW! So I leave it and wait for the lump in my throat to clear and then begin to explain to her that this was her brothers song. Her brother, the one she will never know. The older brother that she's out lived. It makes me sick to think that she will never know him. He will never be here to protect her, beat the crap out of her, pick her up when she falls and roll around on the floor with her. How truly messed up is that? A brother you never know, an image or a story that your mom tells you about. Someone that existed before you, but doesn't now. 

I try to talk to her about him, not as often as I probably should because really she doesn't get it. She's been to his grave once....the one time I posted about it and I haven't gone back since. I don't go enough, and I don't go because I hate going. I feel like he's not there, I feel like it's just a spot........I feel like he should be at home with us in his beautiful urn close by but instead he's in a spot, in the ground so people can go visit him........Although I know they visit him as often as I do so that just pisses me off even more. One piece of advice- Never make a decision at the time of your child's death to please other people. Don't do it even if you think it will keep the peace or that it's the acceptable thing to do because other people want you to do it. Make the choices for you and your spouse, do what feels right, what matters to you and ONLY you. Because the last thing you want to do is regret making the one parental decision for your child based on what other people thought was right. 

I wish with all my wishes that he was here, that the room I'm sitting in was his room full of toys and boy things. I wish I knew what he looked like now and how different and grown up he would be. I wish Christmas was more exciting because he would have gotten it. I just wish my boy had lived so he could be here with his family. Happy, growing and proud of his little sister. Because that is what's supposed to happen when you start having a family .Not death and sadness and the forever grief that runs up and slaps you in the face while you are feeding your living baby.

I didn't choose this life, I'm grateful for what I have and for who surrounds me with their love, but I miss my kid. And the worst part is........I don't even know what to miss about him because we never really got to meet..........

Big fake

A few weeks ago we went on our annual Vegas trip. It was the fist time we left Scarlett for more than a few hours never mind over night or days. In the beginning I enjoyed myself then I felt guilty then I was concerned my milk was drying up and I had taken away that connection just her and I had so I could do it up in Vegas. Despite my love for that amazing place it was a different trip a different feeling. Sure we had fun, but it wasn't the Vegas we both know and love.....at least not this time anyway. 

Keeping with tradition we went to the Palms Casino...first to get a tattoo...but they had closed up shop so next was the card reader. I'm pretty sure it was the same lady. The one the told us about Spencer and how we'd be pregnant within 6 months, then about Scarlett. This time she focused on my career and my creativity. She suggested I stop holding myself back and give myself a bit more credit for the work that I do. She told me money wasn't an issue and if I kept at it I would be quite successful with my photography.

She talked about Jason and how he's incredibaly patient with me. Despite who I am he still gets me with perfect understanding and amazing patience. He sees past my wall and loves me for who I am.

Then she touched on my appearance, how I always want to look my best. I guess she didn't see the 80% of my life living in sweat pants and a pony tail.....but I didn't interrupt. She said I like to have people believe that my life is good, that despite things being a bit hard I still answer with "I'm going good can't really complain actually" I never want people to feel bad for me or to burden them with my troubles so in short I fake it. She suggested that sometimes it's ok to tell them I'm not ok, it's ok to lean on someone else and let down the brick wall.

I sat there saying very little nodding and smiling and thinking. I'm still amazed how this woman can see what she see's even without me saying a word. In that moment I wanted to cry....I wanted to tell her how I was feeling, I wanted to share my sorrows and stress's with her, because she made me feel like it was ok to do. Now don't get me wrong there are people in my life that would never make me feel guilty or bad for my feelings, they wouldn't judge me or gossip to others if I shared my secrets. Yet here I sit silent in my pains, shielding my woes and keeping up appearances.

I've come to understand that life isn't often kind, sure there are moments and times when it's amazing and wonderful and those are instances that I cherish deeply. But most of the time, life is cruel, daunting, stressful, painful and beyond frustrating. I still wonder how this could happen to me? How could losing my baby happen to me, how could being slapped in the face over and over again KEEP fucken happening to me? Nothing seems easy, nothing comes without some sort of consequence or sacrifice. And really I wish someone would have told me that at 15, 16, 17 and 20 because maybe just maybe I would have stopped wanting to grow up and have all the things I have now. Maybe I would have just enjoyed being a teenager. I regret that part of my life, the part where I was never happy with the life I had when I was worry free.

I say that and then I feel guilty for not loving where I am now. I feel bad for not being able to see the happiness in my life because I can't see past the stress and worry and constant non stop demand of the every day. Despite that I'm thankful for the baby that I've got, my dream baby. She's pretty awesome. My issue isn't with her because I can read her like a book and every response I give her she's satisfied with. There haven't been sleepless nights while she screams and screams, colic wasn't an issue, she fusses when she's hungry or tired. Happy most of the time and funny as hell. We lucked out with this one, in fact I'm worried to have another in case that baby shatters my fairy tail ideas of babyhood.

My husband is.....he's great let me first say. Patient, kind wonderful. But right now he's driving me mad. And it's nothing that he's intentionally doing, he's not mean to me or pushing buttons I just think that he is. I silently curse his name because of a towel on the floor OR this is a good one- he bought to much lettuce.......Yes I was rip roarin mad when I tried to make a sandwich today and pulled out not one but two large heads of lettuce slowly shriveling away because there is now way we will eat that much lettuce before it gets nasty. So I was pissed, and annoyed with him. Makes sense right?........right? I don't know how to talk to him about things because due to his own stress he's taking everything personal so then feelings get hurt I stomp upstairs he goes down and that's that. My communication sucks and one of my largest fears is that I'll take to long to get over my big head and open up like an adult should and my husband will up and leave me. Years of trying to communicate and he'll be fed up leave my stubborn ass and I'll be alone. All because I can't talk to him. Maybe I should blog to him.......

I'm admittedly in a rut, a big fat ass rut that looks quite high, heads straight up on a 90 degree angle and I've got nothing but my hands to help get me out of it. Some days I sit in my rut refusing to even try to get out, others my hands bleed from my attempts. But still even to this day I tell an old class mate "I'm good actually everything is pretty amazing these days" NOT.

I wonder if I'll forever seek that happy perfect life. I wonder if I'll always be in a rut because I can't accept the good in the now. And I wonder if it's something I deserve. Or maybe there is some sort of lesson I'm supposed to be learning but because I'm such a frigged stick in the mud I can't get over my own damn self to learn that lesson. It's frustrating, maddening and I have no patience for myself right now. I imagine it'll be the same tomorrow and the next until I some how dig out lay down and die from exhaustion.

So to summarize I'm a faker. I have the nice house (we got it by the way...barely but we got it) I've got a great husband, beautiful daughter, two dogs one big one small and we all look pretty cute on the outside. Dream life, the one I always wanted. The one I cried about listening to Boys to Men after being dumped for the 10th time thinking I'll never have. Pfftt it's over rated. It's hard work, stressful and exhausting and there is never enough time or energy to sit down and actually enjoy it. So instead I put my energy into faking it.

My name is Jen and I'm a big fake.

 

Me and the babe

Just breathe

As I glanced down I could feel her sweet lips sucking away. My once small breast swollen with milk covers her tiny mouth and button nose. Her eyes start to slowly close and pop open as she fights the need to sleep. I can't help but already worry about the day when she will once not need me to feed her, the day that I will no longer breast feed freaks me out. She's only 4 months old and that day is far away, but I'm already getting anxious about it. She needs me, I'm the one that can soothe her when she's upset, I'm the one that can calm her place her on my breast and fulfill her need, I'm her momma. Now don't get me wrong the rational part of me just said "don't be stupid no longer breast feeding her doesn't mean you aren't her mother" but then the crazy psycho side of me feels like it'll be an end to something powerful, meaningful and my job will be over.That connection will be gone and then what do we have? I'm sure we will have so much more, I'm sure she will need me in other ways and I'll be to busy chasing her little ass around to even remember that she use to be on the boob, but for now I guess I'm prepping myself to mourn that connection with her. 

Being a mother.....for me...so far means mourning things. There is always going to be a loss. As she grows things will change, routines will be different, she's going to grow over night and get big..... Each step in her life means she's stepping away from where she used to be. I might be one of those crazy mom's that cant let shit go. Gee lucky Scarlett. She'll be coming to me at 16 asking to go to a movie to which I'll proclaim "but your still a baby!! you can't be out that late at night..."

I wonder if I'm struggling with the idea of all these changes because I didn't get to experience them with him. I only ever had him as a tiny life less baby. So anything beyond that is huge. She lived THAT was big and now she's growing and I'm not sure I've grasped the fact that I get to keep her and she's alive. Never mind the fact that she's grabbing things and screeching at the top of her lungs because I'm not paying attention to her. Even the slightest changes are big ones, anything is big when all you know is death. All you know is that you grew a baby, you had him, he was small and perfect, but gone before he arrived. 

I hope that when I get moments like the one I just had I'm cognisant enough to stop and take her in. As I pulled her off and tucked her into the nook of my neck I listened to her breathe in and out. I remembered that her head started at my neck and stretched all the way to my top thigh....."she's so long now" I thought. In and out in and out, one breath at a time. I remembered that as I was living my hellish nightmare there were moments when I thought that he was going to just breathe. I would stop and stare at his lifeless body because I thought he was taking a breath. I held my own trying desperately to listen and catch that inhale and exhale that would shake me out of the deathly reality I was currently living. I wanted it so badly I just wanted to hear him breathe and be ok and have him. I did that off and on for 16 or so hours that I had with him, but he never took a breath and I never got to take him home. 

I hope she understands that when I'm holding her she's reminding me of him. That she knows that I'm soaking in her little moments because he taught me that I need to do that. I hope she can understand who he was and what kind of impact he had on getting her here. He's given me a chance to appreciate her more so than I think I would if he had lived. That is a gift that he will continue to give me forever. 

It's still surreal to me, my life his life this life I lead. I cannot believe this has happened. I cannot believe I carried a baby for 10 months and he didn't live. How can that happen, how can it happen to me??? Years later and I'm still blown away by such a brutal tragedy. I still feel like she's not going to be mine to keep and that something is going to happen and she will be gone. That terrifies me and I'm not sure it's something I'll every be able to shake. I don't want to live in fear, but I'm not sure I'll ever be able to change that. So in turn I have to try and look at it from another point of view and just cherish the time I do have her. Listen to her tiny little baby breaths, smile at her perfect little baby smile and smell her sweet baby smell. And just make sure I breathe.

Depleted

Scarlett has brought some amazing love into my life. I didn't know what it would feel like to love a living baby, I knew how fiercely I would defend Spencer and the desire to keep his memory alive. But Scarlett has ignited a new passion inside of me. Loving her, protecting her helping her grow into a strong successful woman that's a drive I've never had before. 

There's been a lot going on in my life, so much so that it's become overwhelming. Some days I'm able to keep up, I can avoid letting the anxiety get to me, but lately it's been creeping up on me. It's weird, last night I was anxious while looking at wall decals for her new room.....WTF? We are in the final stages of building a house. Now it's not just any house, it's the house I never imagined I would have it's THE house. Jason seems to be under the impression it's our "starter" home and has goals beyond my imagination. Which I can only commend him for. He's a provider beyond belief, his ambition is beyond me and I can't seem to bring myself to even believe in the things he plans to do. To me they seem so far out of reach, they are what I dreamed of having not the reality of the path I thought I would be taking. This house still 35 days away from possession seems unrealistic to me. I haven't allowed myself to get excited because when I do.....I freak out. I still don't feel like its going to be ours and I still can't believe it's happening so quickly. 

Business has been the shits. And when I say the shits I mean it, everything has happened all at one time all the walls have fallen in and we are under some major combat attack. Despite my attempts to shut it all out and avoid it, I've got to deal with it. I know that in the end this will make us better business owners, stronger more knowledgeable entrepreneurs but right now it sucks and I feel like it's sucking out my willingness to get out of bed in the morning. I also hate watching my husband deal with it. I can see the stress on his face, I hear it in his voice and I'm not sure how much more he can handle. Each day we keep reminding ourselves that it will get worse before it's going to get better but what the F kind of grass is greener attitude is that. I suppose it isn't, we are just being realistic in a glass half empty sort of way. It sucks and my fear is that in my own stress and anger I'm not supporting him enough, but I feel like I don't have much more to give to him.

Now add shitty work, money issues, home purchasing, moving, organizing, health and weight concerns, general life, two dogs, two cats and anything else you can imagine onto raising and taking care of a 4 month old. It's a lot, BUT I make it my priority to wake up with a smile on my face for that baby girl. I strive to make her laugh, to show her that mom's happy and dad's happy and it's mostly because she is the only thing great in our lives right now. She is our happiness, she's funny and outgoing. She's just starting to test out her new squeaky high pitched voice.....which is....awesome...I suppose ;) It's cute when she's talking, but not so much when she's tossing a fit and demanding mom's attention....like right now!

And then there are the moments when it's so obvious he's gone. Moments that yet again punch me right square in the gut and take my breath away. One Sunday was quite overwhelming for me. My brother and his lady love are expecting a baby in a few weeks time. And of course it's a boy, baby Danger we call him as a little joke. It never bothered me when we found out it was a boy, I was excited I am excited I'm gonna be an aunt! But then I was at his baby shower. As I sat there so excited for my nephew to come I watched his mom open all her boy presents. And then all of a sudden BAM! "I miss Spencer, I miss my boy" he should have been there running around like a nut case trying to open presents and tugging on bows, but he wasn't. Shortly after that we met up with my good friend Kerry and Vaughn to go to Ovo, a cirque show about bugs. You'll remember that Vaughn is just a few hours older than Spencer. As I sat in the dark watching his little face in pure amazement I missed my boy. The fascination on Vaughn's face was priceless and I couldn't help but wonder what my boy's face would have looked like as he watched.

I'm not sure what this life is going to turn out to be. I know from the outside looking in we look like the perfect little family. But in reality we aren't, we've got our problems big and small, we've got one baby when we should have two. And I've got an internal struggle with happiness, sadness and utter confusion most of the time. I'm depeleted, exhausted and no matter how many breaks I take or how often I try to forget life still happens. 

Speaking of life my beauty is awake now. I'll leave you with this picture of her sweet face. Hard to be sad with a funny face like that. 

The reality of life

About two days ago I was introduced to this story. Her illness began to show signs at 4 months old, Scarlett just turned 3 months......

I have the unfortunate opportunity to know the realities of life. To know that I don't live in a world where babies stay healthy and live long and happy lives. I know that babies die, I know that when little ones get sick they might not live through it. I tried to avoid reading Anaya's story, the most recent posts were enough for me to know that this was going too feel to close to home to emotionally handle it. But tonight I was drawn back to it, tonight I started from the beginning. You can't start reading a blog without starting at the first post. You can't connect without knowing who your connecting to or why.If I'm going to sit back and read the pain of a mother as she watches her baby die I'm going to feel it as she did from the beginning. 

As I read I held my baby, my healthy thriving living baby and I knew it would only be a matter of minutes before my thoughts would run, my heart would shake in fear and I was going to lose it. I went up to her nursery and rocked her in the dark. I can't lose her. I simply cannot lose this baby. Even thinking about it breaks me down, my soul starts to hurt and I just want to pretend that stuff like that doesn't happen. 

We had a small scare with her. I noticed in the hospital that she's got what appears to be a double butt crack. At first I thought it was cute but then I asked the doctor to which she responded with "Oh well it could be a sign of Spina Bifida but because I can see it stops she should be fine"..........It amazes me how casually doctors can toss around the possibility of severe paralysis in front of a new mother. Anyway at the next visit I asked my family doc to look into it. We met with a pediatrician and had an ultrasound done a few weeks ago. Today it was confirmed that she is fine, there is nothing to worry about and there is no need to monitor it moving ahead. Phew dodged that bullet.........this time anyway. I've been shot before I know how much it hurts. 

What's on my mind the most is that I can lose her, anything could happen and I'm scared of what it would do to me. I'm scared of what life would be like without her because I don't know what I did before her.I hate what baby loss has done to me. I hate that it's turned me into a terrified mother, one that lives in fear of having to yet again bury another baby. And really the worst part of it all is that I will live like this for the rest of my life. I will carry that around with me for as long as I live as long as she lives and ones after her. It's going to shape me as her mother, as his mother.

I can only hope that some where on this path I'll get a small break. I'll get the chance to watch her live, to contribute to her health and assist in helping her thrive in her life. I can only hope that my bad luck ended a few shorts years ago and I'll never be in the position Anaya's mom is in. Because I can't imagine that kind of pain, I can't imagine that type of daily torture as you watch your baby die one desperate breath at a time. 

If you can pop over and send your support her way I'm sure she could use it, especially now.

. Her illness began to show signs at 4 months old, Scarlett just turned 3 months......

I have the unfortunate opportunity to know the realities of life. To know that I don't live in a world where babies stay healthy and live long and happy lives. I know that babies die, I know that when little ones get sick they might not live through it. I tried to avoid reading Anaya's story, the most recent posts were enough for me to know that this was going too feel to close to home to emotionally handle it. But tonight I was drawn back to it, tonight I started from the beginning. You can't start reading a blog without starting at the first post. You can't connect without knowing who your connecting to or why.If I'm going to sit back and read the pain of a mother as she watches her baby die I'm going to feel it as she did from the beginning. 

As I read I held my baby, my healthy thriving living baby and I knew it would only be a matter of minutes before my thoughts would run, my heart would shake in fear and I was going to lose it. I went up to her nursery and rocked her in the dark. I can't lose her. I simply cannot lose this baby. Even thinking about it breaks me down, my soul starts to hurt and I just want to pretend that stuff like that doesn't happen. 

We had a small scare with her. I noticed in the hospital that she's got what appears to be a double butt crack. At first I thought it was cute but then I asked the doctor to which she responded with "Oh well it could be a sign of Spina Bifida but because I can see it stops she should be fine"..........It amazes me how casually doctors can toss around the possibility of severe paralysis in front of a new mother. Anyway at the next visit I asked my family doc to look into it. We met with a pediatrician and had an ultrasound done a few weeks ago. Today it was confirmed that she is fine, there is nothing to worry about and there is no need to monitor it moving ahead. Phew dodged that bullet.........this time anyway. I've been shot before I know how much it hurts. 

What's on my mind the most is that I can lose her, anything could happen and I'm scared of what it would do to me. I'm scared of what life would be like without her because I don't know what I did before her.I hate what baby loss has done to me. I hate that it's turned me into a terrified mother, one that lives in fear of having to yet again bury another baby. And really the worst part of it all is that I will live like this for the rest of my life. I will carry that around with me for as long as I live as long as she lives and ones after her. It's going to shape me as her mother, as his mother.

I can only hope that some where on this path I'll get a small break. I'll get the chance to watch her live, to contribute to her health and assist in helping her thrive in her life. I can only hope that my bad luck ended a few shorts years ago and I'll never be in the position Anaya's mom is in. Because I can't imagine that kind of pain, I can't imagine that type of daily torture as you watch your baby die one desperate breath at a time. 

If you can pop over and send your support her way I'm sure she could use it, especially now.

The last 12 weeks

"Do not stand at my grave and weap"

"I am not there, I do not sleep"

I sat there next to him breastfeeding her. 

Imagine that..........A new mother with her new baby girl sitting on the ground at the grave of her infant son. Imagine trying to tell her about him, and suddenly being hit with the raw emotion that never leaves. I haven't cried at his grave since his funeral. I've visited several times since and haven't shed a single tear. But this time it was different, she was there with me. "This is your brother" I explained.......

But what kind of explanation is it? What do you tell her, how do you tell her not just now, but when she's old enough to actually understand? It broke me, I felt it and I cried. As I tried to make myself stop crying I thought "Feel this, you need to feel this right now. Cry for fuck sakes, you haven't cried in so long". I don't know why I pull back the way that I do, it's probably an attempt at protecting myself from the obvious. But I knew that as I nursed the living baby next to his grave I had to feel that. It was so very surreal and I felt as if I was dreaming. The nightmare that I wish I would wake up from, but it never seems to happen. It doesn't matter how many times I shift position or turn over it's still happening and I'm still living it. 

She quietly nursed as the wind blew my hair across my face and I wiped the tears from my once dry eyes. "How fucked up is this" I thought......how sad a sight I must have been. I tried to see myself from the outside and I knew that if I had seen me I would have been very sad for the lady nursing her baby next to the grave of her dead one. All I kept saying was "this is your brother, this is Spencer". But then I thought "he's not actually here" it's just a spot.....a spot you were made to pick". And then I got mad and angry and recanted all the things that happened......My tears dried up she finished and I was ready to leave. 

I shouldn't have had to sit there attempting to tell my daughter about her big brother. That should have never happened to me, but it did and sometimes it doesn't feel like it did. To this day I still can't wrap my mind around this brutal truth that is my life as a mother. I feel like I grew him for 10 months for nothing. Like I made him live simply so he could die. What kind of life is that? How truly terrible that is......living simply to die. I'm so very sorry to him for that, and I wish there was something I could do, could have done to prevent and change that. 

I'm not sure what I thought it was going to be like. It was her first time there, just me and her....and him. The three of us sitting silently meeting for the first time. After being so upset, she was so calm and quiet. She let me feel it, I made myself feel it and we got through it the three of us. 

I'm scared to go back again, and I know it's going to be just as hard because it will be the 4 of us. Another first, another sad heart breaking meeting, one that never should have happened but does. Moments of torture and pain forever inflicting itself on us. 

Her

As I sit here and listen to her breath on the monitor I feel it. 

I feel the moment, the life I'm now living. I feel the motherly need to let her rest, yet desire to run up scoop her up and hold her while she sleeps. I feel the quiet house as I listen to her little sounds and still know that he's still missing. 

Many mom's have said that you don't realize how much of them you missed until the next one comes. Until you get to parent a living baby and you realize how much you've missed. I get that now, but I'm also going to admit that I haven't let myself think of him as often as I thought that I would. Man just typing that makes me feel like a bad parent.......... I think of him, but I think of him as if he would be here now. The toddler poking her face and giving her drooly kisses on her cheeks. I think of what he looked like and if they look the same. I compare how much hair she has and he had. The color of their hair is different, their faces so opposite. He was the big burly boy, she's the dainty princess. Something so obvious to me, their differences. And then of course one is here and the other is not. I wonder how you miss something you never had, and then you just miss them the idea of them, the memory of that baby you had to bury. 

She is perfect. I know all parents say that but she is. She eats and sleeps and poops like a champ. She's fairly predictable, easy to read and quiets with a simply coo and a kiss. Her expressions are limitless and her squeaks and grunts are baby perfect. I wish I could capture her tiny little moments in a bottle and keep her that way. But then I want to see to grow. I want to know what she looks like and hear her laugh and giggle when I make a funny face. I want to see her leg chub and watch her learn. I want to be the best mom to her and I want her to become a beautiful woman. 

Sometimes my mind goes to a dark place. The sick tormenting thoughts that run through my head are brutal. I never knew my mind could go to such a place, but the fear of the very worst case scenario haunts me in my quiet moments. The loss would be even greater now, knowing her and losing her is different than not knowing him and only losing what we never knew. The pain is still great the loss of him is not something I will ever discredit, but to lose her after knowing her and feeling her and having her would kill me again this time successfully. I wish I didn't take myself there, those are some dark moments of sheer fear, but I know that it can all be taken away so quickly. I know that it happens and I can only hope with all hope that it doesn't happen to me......again. 

She is here, happy healthy and giving us the hope that we thought we had lost. 

Today she is 20 days old.