Losing Things and Finding Things

Y'all. Sometimes life is hard. Sometimes things don't make sense.

If you've been a reader of this blog at some point in the last two years you are well aware of the fact that miscarriage has been a common theme. And that's because I had miscarriages in July of 2014 and November of 2014. 

And now we can add February 17, 2017 to that list. 

February 17th has been a strangely significant date in my lifetime. In that last few years, it was the due date of our very first, lost, baby. Then it became the conception date for Junior, our wonderful baby boy here with us earthside. And now it has become the date of our third miscarriage. The day our fourth baby left us forever.

I have taken a lot of time to process with friends and family already, and I feel like I have come out the other side intact. It's different than the first time because I didn't have to go through the same physical difficulties. It's different than the second time because I'm not wondering if we'll ever have a child someday. This time I have a sweet (albeit teething) boy to snuggle, and plenty of experience to fall back on.

Ok, so this might sound weird to some of you, sad to others, and understandable to a few. I find myself wondering why people keep asking if I'm doing all right. I felt like I was able to process and go through the steps of handling this loss quickly this time, and it's because this is the third time I've had to go through it.

Am I the only one who feels this way when going through this kind of loss/trial so often?

Every now and then something pops up in me to remind me that I am not 100% OK. That my natural optimism, hopefulness, and positivity has been damaged.

-When a couple I know says they're ready to have another child and are already talking about their next pregnancy with the expectation that it will result in a live birth. And my reaction? I want to tell them to be cautious. Don't use that terrible word, "when." Use the safe word: "if."

-When I avoid all the newborn clothing sections in stores because it just doesn't make sense to coo over a precious set of footie pajamas.

-When precious people in my life have children so close together in age, and when people around me talk about how, yes, it was really hard, but now they're so grateful their kids are only a year apart, and I find myself already regretting the fact that Junior won't be that close in age to a future sibling. That I'll never be a "two under two" mom like I always wanted.

-When, now, over a month after the event, my body is attempting to start a new menstrual cycle and my hormones are wildly out of control. We're talking white-hot-rage out of control. Why, oh why, does my body create this deadly chemical cocktail of fury and impatience in me? Me, who never before struggled with an anger problem. Me, who always prided myself on my ability to maintain a level head in the face of absurdity or futility. It's been over a year since I have felt anger on this level, and the last occasion was the final swan song (is that redundant?) of my PPD.

-When the weight just WON'T. STOP. PILING. ON. Seriously. Won't stop. 10 pounds in one month, y'all. TEN. And I know that even when I say I'm fine, and even when I believe I'm fine, somehow, I must not be. Grief. Depression. Bitterness. Sneaking. Hiding. Sin. I wear it all around my middle. It clings to me and I can't seem to shake it, no matter how hard I run or how many reps I lift or how much I can wrap my arms around my legs in a forward fold.

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Whew. I know I always say to "keep it real, y'all," and apparently, that's what I just did. 'Cause that just got really real, really fast.

As I'm writing this, and attempting to come down from the "rage mountaintop" a nap-fighting, screaming 16-month old gave me this afternoon, I'm sitting on the couch next to some empty candy wrappers, the TV remotes, a baby monitor, and a water jug I should have refilled hours ago. The television is paused on the ultimate trashy guilty pleasure. The dishes from last night are still sitting in the sink. My teeth have about an inch of grime on them because I've yet to brush them today. My phone is sitting at 1% battery life because (like the water jug) I just don't want to get up and walk the 20 feet to plug it in.

But I wrote this post. It had been sitting, unfinished for about a month now. And something this afternoon prompted me to open it up and just start writing. I don't even know if where I started this afternoon meshes with what was previously written. I'm not going to check. I just needed to write. Things were crouching inside me that I didn't even know were there. Dark things. Secret things. Hiding in the corners of my mind and slowly poisoning me.

This helped. Finding those things helped. They're not gone, but at least they're no longer hidden. I can see the monsters now, and (just like any scary movie you ever see) that somehow makes them less scary. Now it's time to assess them, rally my weapons around me (friends, prayer, Jesus, Truth, Love), and take them down, one by one.

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Here's to keeping it real, y'all.

Newborn Essentials: What We Actually Used and Loved

It's been far too long since I've been seen around these parts. My only excuse? Being a mama is just too much fun and I've been totally satisfied doing that.

So, since Junior is almost five months old now (what?!), we're out of the "newborn" stage and firmly in "baby" territory. And being on the other side of the newborn stage, I can tell you it was definitely different than I planned for. Some things were absolutely perfect for us and I'm so glad we had them. Some products were useful but not super necessary. And some products simply didn't work out at all. 

Here's the breakdown of how it all worked out.

Bringing Up Baby: Ten things no one tells you about your baby's first month

So, if you can believe it, Junior is finally one month old.

I don't think I can believe we're here. We've learned so much in these past four weeks, and there's still more to learn every single day. Things about raising a baby. Things about ourselves. Things about readjusting to a new normal. Some of these things were expected, but some of them most definitely were not.

From small little quirks to major paradigm shifts, here are ten of the things we learned this month.

The first snow....one year later.

*So this is technically the second snowfall, but it's the first REAL one and the first one that required us to shovel our driveway. I'm saying the other one didn't count. 

Last year I wrote a blog post called The First Snow. It was a hard post. It was a hard time. I had just miscarried our second child. We were stuck in a cold house in a cold town in a cold state hundreds and hundreds of miles away from family. The driveway needed to be shoveled. The days were short and sunshine seemed to have disappeared forever.

It was probably our lowest point last year. Personally, it was MY lowest point. It left me with questions and doubts that took a long time to put into words.

Flash forward: one year later.

In which I present Junior's birth story.

NOTE: This is a long post. I probably could have shortened it down, but I just dumped it all out here. You might want to take this in chunks. I apologize ahead of time for the wordiness.

Who doesn't love a good birth story? The pain, the joy, the tears, the laughter . . . it's all the stuff that makes for great drama.

I'm not sure about drama when it comes to our story, but it's got all of the things mentioned above--some more than others.

Now, a short disclaimer before I launch into the tale:

Childbirth, while miraculous and life-changing, is not a glamorous process. I'm not going to pull any punches here and I'm not going to use euphemisms or metaphors (OK, I'll probably use some metaphor, but just because I like it) to describe parts of the human body or the process of labor and delivery. If you're squeamish about that sort of thing, or if you don't want to hear words like "vagina" or "perineum" (whoops, got you!) then I'd encourage you to maybe find something else to read. For the rest of you, let's get into the good stuff.

Presenting Lil' Feisty.....

I'm hoping to post a long and detailed birth story later this week, but until then, may I present some news.

Lil' Feisty joined our family at 5:16 a.m. on Thursday, November 12. HE is a beautiful BOY! He weighed in at 8 lbs. 2 oz. and measured 21 in. long. According to the nurses that's a heavier baby and a very long baby. I don't know about all of that stuff, but I do know we think he's exactly as he's supposed to be.

His arrival was swift and on his own terms, and both he and I are doing well after the first week.

Now that we're home and figuring out this whole life-as-a-family-of-three thing together, we've already learned so much about ourselves and this precious little boy. He'll be called "Junior" here from now on.

Next week I hope to have a birth story up and posted for y'all.

Until then, keep it real, keep it warm, and keep it snuggly.

In which I provide a mid-point update on this whole pregnancy thing.

We're halfway there, folks. It's hard to believe that we've made it this far, and we couldn't be more excited about it.

Our 20-week appointment and ultrasound were great! We got a call just a few hours after the ultrasound to let us know that everything looked perfect. The ultrasound tech was so helpful and informative, and she told us every step she took and every item she measured. I couldn't believe how much our little bug squirmed and moved around during the procedure, too. She told us that it had been awhile since she'd seen a baby so feisty. And, yes, we did find out the sex and we're thrilled, but since baby will still be a mystery to y'all, we've come up with the perfect nickname.

Please say hello to Lil' Feisty!

More pictures are at the bottom of the post. Perhaps you can enjoy some of the links on your way there, or if you're just here for some pics then go ahead and scroll straight down. I'll never know, don't worry!

So today's post is a brief recap of where we've been so far on this journey. The miscarriage problems the year before. The struggles and hard thoughts while we waited to get pregnant again. The excitement and desire for total transparency when it did happen. The plans and the preparations once we were in the swing of things. And the weekly changes occurring with my body. It's all here.

One might think that the beginning would be 20 weeks ago. One would be wrong. The beginning was over a year ago. Let's go there now.

In which I ponder the difficulties of easy answers

Warning. Contains frank talk about stuff married people do.

So, I'm thirty years old now. It happened last month, and I didn't make a big deal about it--not because I'm not excited, but because I really don't care for birthday parties. I know, how lame, right? I do promise that I am super stoked to be in my thirties and headed further into adulthood. And while I fondly remember my college days and friends, my twenties are not something I will miss.

One thing about all that, though, is that it's more obvious to others that I am now an adult. Except for some sweet old ladies at the grocery store (bless their hearts), people assume I'm no longer a college student. They see the wedding ring on my finger and they know that I am a young, married woman. So, of course, when getting to know me better, what are the first things they ask? Where are you from? What do you do? How long have you been married? Do you have any kids? 

Do you have any kids . . .

I'm not a girl, not yet a woman. Wait, I meant mother.

If you were an aficionado of early 2000s teen pop, then you are already well aware of what I'm about to confess to you.

I just straight up referenced a Britney Spears song in my title. Yep. I went there. Don't know what I'm talking about? Allow me to take you back: