September 22nd

It's been 2 years ...since the worst day of my life. I don't want to slip into the dark, painful hole, to rehash the moments that changed my life. I just memorialize this day, like any other significant day in my life. Last year I  focused more on this anniversary as being the day Joey died.  This year, it's about the day Joey was born.
He spent 10 minutes on this earth. We were a family for 10 minutes. God gave me that. So today, we celebrate. Without a doubt, this day will always have a heavy feeling attached to it, but it's one I must acknowledge.
Last September 22nd, Joe and I ( 9 months pregnant) stood out in the cold rain building a memorial garden from the plot of land where a tree was destroyed. It's like life. When something dies, new life arises. I've worked on this garden all year long, planting bushes and flowers from us, Joey's Grandparents and Great Grandparents. It's a memorial garden from family, and built with love. It's a place that I can go to daily and get lost in my thoughts while I weed, fill the bird bath, watch the butterflies dance with the bees, and a place to think about my little guy. By no means is this garden complete. It's a work in progress....just like me.

Last September 22nd, My family and I went to the lake to release red heart lanterns. It was probably the windiest day of the year and not 1 lantern would light, let alone inflate and release. It was such a let down. It meant a lot that we all gathered  together for the effort. This year, Joe and I  decided to try the release again. Wouldn't you know it...the weather was exactly the same as it was last year. Cold, rainy, and of course WINDY. I was determined!! After 2 failed, ripped attempted...one inflated and we had lift off!!

No Stranger to loss

I'm no stranger to loss. Frankly, who is? Haven't we all lost someone or some thing that meant something to us? I wonder if because I'm getting older, that the rate of loss will only increase?
I haven't written since my second hardest loss hit. I lost my first "child", my companion, my soul sister, my boo-boo bunny....my sissy. This heart-wrenching loss feels different than my loss of Joey. I talk about Joey all the time. But I can't bring myself to talk about Anna, or look at her toys, or finger through pictures of her. If I do, I lose my breath. My stomach feels sunken in, and I just can't seem to take a breath. It's a heavy feeling. This loss is different because she was all I had, for so long. I know the age old saying is a mans best friend is his dog, but they missed the mark by not mentioning soul mate. I think about her everyday. I remind myself of what her fur felt like, where her unique markings were, the special spots on her lips where I would lay my all encompassing kiss on. I'm afraid these images will fade soon and it terrifies me. I still have her pillow with her pillow case unwashed. I won't clean it. I won't lose the smell of her or the fibers of hair she has left behind. She shared in all my special events and went everywhere with me. I hate the thought that she is missing out on these days. That she is missing out on Kessa. They would be the best of friends today...I just know it. She stuck around long enough to see my broken heart mended by the arrival of Kessa. She knew her place; she knew her time. I just wasn't ready to say goodbye. She moved on, March 25th 2014.
This is the last picture taken before she crossed the Rainbow Bridge.

Today was a particularly hard day missing Anna.
I wanted to quickly view a video of her...just to refresh my memory...ya know, out of fear of forgetting. This video is one that is priceless to me. My 2 babies...sharing in a moment.

I visited a pet cemetery today to visit an old friend. As I passed by this Rainbow bridge, I realized Anna is ok. She is pain free. It's only me that hurts now.

I guess this is hitting me particularly hard, because September is a month of loss for me. Joey on September 22nd and now my friend Kelly on September 8th.
There are some new beginnings...just on the horizon.

“Somebody Needs Me.”

Ever since we brought our new daughter home, somebody has needed me. I could be enjoying a quick shower then the baby starts crying.”  Or, sitting down for a second, quite aware that the baby was beginning to stir from a nap. Some days never seem to end, and the monotony of being “needed” can really take its toll. Then, it all started to hit me, she needs ME.  Not anybody else.  Not a single other person in the whole world.  She needs her Mommy.
The sooner I can accept that being Mommy means that I never go off the clock, the sooner I can find peace in this crazy stage of life.   That ‘Mommy’ is my duty, privilege and honor. I am ready to be there when somebody needs me, all day and all night.  Mommy means I feel ragged, unshowered, pulled in every direction, un-focused, spread too thing, and just plain exhausted.  Mommy means my husband and I haven’t had a real conversation in months.  Mommy means I neglect myself and put others before my needs, without a thought.  Mommy means that my body is full of aches and my heart is full of love.
I am sure there will come a day when no one needs me.  My baby will be long gone and consumed with her own life.  I may sit alone in some assisted living facility watching my body fade away.  No one will need me then.  I may even be a burden.  Sure, she will come visit, but my arms will no longer be her home.  My kisses no longer her cure.
So for now, I find beauty with rocking in our cozy little nursery.  It’s 8pm and I am exhausted and frustrated, but it’s okay, she needs me.  Just me.  And maybe, I need her too.  Because she makes me Mommy.  Some day I will sit in my wheelchair, my arms empty, dreaming of those quiet nights in the nursery.  When she needed me and we were the only two people in the world.
Can I enjoy being needed?  Sometimes, sure, but often it is tiring.  Exhausting.  But, it isn’t meant to be enjoyed every moment.  It is a duty.  God made me her Mom.  It is a position I yearned for long before I would ever understand it. Yep.  All day, everyday.  That’s my job.  And I have to admit that it is the toughest job I have ever had. 
Once upon a time, I had time.  For myself.  Now, my toe nails need some love.  My bra fits a little differently.  My curling iron might not even work anymore, I don’t know.  I can’t take a shower without feeling rushed.  My hair is limp, my skin us dull & the bags I have under my eyes should be leaving on vacation.  My proof of motherhood.  Proof that somebody needs me.  That right now, somebody always needs me.
These years of being needed are exhausting, yet fleeting.  I have to stop dreaming of “one day” when things will be easier.  Because, the truth is, it may get easier, but it will never be better than today.  Today, when I am covered in baby spit up.  Today, when I savor those chubby little cheeks pressed up against mine.  Today is perfect.  ”One day” I will get pedicures and shower as long as I want.  ”One day” I will get myself back.  But, today I give myself away, and I am tired, and dirty and loved SO much, and I gotta go.  Somebody needs me.

A little help from above

Today is January 22nd, which means a year ago...Life and death took place within 24 hours.
We were at the end stages of our second attempt at pregnancy since Joey left us. (Our first attempt ended with a big fat negative on Christmas morning. How's that for a "how-do ya'-do, Christmas Present"?)
The procedure is a month long of tracking blood work, ultrasounds, and ohhh yea...the horrifically painful daily dose of a medicated shot to the stomach. The concentration is so intense, that my eyes literally bulge out of my head and just when I think I can't take it anymore, he withdraws the needle. Poor Joe. That can't be easy. It all comes down to the day when you are most fertile, which would be "tomorrow". Fingers crossed science does it's thing. That your body does what it's supposed to do. That God, this time, will give you a baby. But "today"...Joe's Grandfather died. The nerves of "tomorrow" quickly faded as we mourned the loss of a loved one. January 23rd turned out to be sureal. As I laid on the table, looking up at Joe...wishing, praying, BEGGING God to let this be the time...a true and honest sense of calm came over me. I felt Pop was going to aide in letting it work this time. We had someone "up there" who was on our side, and it worked. January 23rd was the start of creation of our little crumb bun! Thanks Pop...we KNOW you had something to do with it!

The last year has NOT been easy. 10 long months of constant worry and never really enjoying the pregnancy that I'm painfully aware could end in an instant. The constant questioning of every move I make. Am I bending over too much? Are these long car rides harming the baby at all? Am I accidentally sleeping on the wrong side? Am I on my feet too much? Is my Cervix holding out? Which lead to weekly ultrasounds. The constant, every second of every minute, of every hour, of every day...WORRY. The loss of a baby changes you. It alters your state of mind. You may believe that it is possible to get over the loss of a baby. You may not understand why one doesn't replace the other. But you can't, and it doesn't. Can you even imagine the emptiness, pain and sorrow? Granted...my heart and soul are filled with so much joy and content having my Rainbow baby in my arms. My purpose has been satisfied. My life has meaning. She needs me and I NEED her. But she is not my only child. She is the only child you will see and know, but she is not an only child.

I am eternally grateful for God giving me my turn, for Pop helping us get our girl, and for Joey always watching over her. She's our everything!

                                                                               Kessa holding her big brother

Gifts of Grief

How can a gift come from grief? Easily. It's the unanswered prayers, it's the man you marry after a horrific break up, it's the baby you have after a loss, and for this post...it's all about the friendships and sisters you gain while going through it. It's the oddest places and when you least expect it, that God places people in your life.
Tara and Miranda are my BLM soul sisters. They have both lost babies within weeks of me losing Joey. They also delivered their Rainbow babies within weeks of Kessa. These babies were chosen. These babies belong. They are the gifts of grief.
My other gifts of grief don't live close, they don't know my family, and they may not even share the same interests...but what they do know, is the pain and the joy that dance side by side in our daily lives.
People have asked "Are you over what happened to you now that you have your baby"? I speak for all 3 of us when I say WE WILL NEVER BE OVER IT. We didn't suffer from the flu; our child died. While we thank the Lord above for the miracle babies that fill our arms, we still shed tears for the babies that don't. As we lovingly nurture and stare at their little faces, it's impossible to not think "Would our angel look this"? These precious little ones are daily reminders of what was taken from us, and what the good Lord granted us. They are the gifts of grief.

I thank these girls...for their love, understanding and support. It's a connection like no other.
It's an unthinkable, unfair circumstance that we suffered, but you both are also my gifts of grief.

These girls are the faces of loss. They are also the faces of perseverance. These are the faces of strong women who have overcome such heartache. These are faces I'm proud to call my gifts of grief.

My Rainbow has appeared!

SHE'S HERE! SHE'S HERE! SHE'S FINALLY HERE!
After I lost her brother, the thought of actually holding a baby in my arms seemed a million dreams away.
After 10 months of pregnancy which consisted of shots, weekly doctors appointments, a specifically designed lifestyle regimen, and oh, let's not forget about the constant 24 hours a day, 7 days a week...WORRY.....my Rainbow is here. I don't know what 1 specific tactic worked for me...but it's not a regimen that I would change for the future. She arrived perfect. She arrived with a guardian angel on her shoulder protecting her all the way. She came out with an angel kiss on each eye lid, where her brother kissed her and told her to go mend the hearts of their parents. Joey hand picked Kessa out for us and he couldn't have done a better job. I thank God every day for the her and for allowing me to have a baby in my arms and be called MOM.