18 weeks...

Ah, my peaceful sleeping girl. You are so beautiful. Its Tuesday again, and in true Tuesday fashion, there's a breeze blowing your windchimes around. Its bitterly cold. 35 degrees but it feels colder. Your grave blanket makes me feel like we are sending earthly love to heaven for you, keeping your warm. I like to believe you are on a cozy blanket right now, in a field of gorgeous flowers, with a fluffy cloud filled sky above you, warm breeze, bees buzzing around you like they always did in the spring when you were in my belly, bees were always all around me constantly when you were with me...stretched out taking a nap, with all the bottles and clean diapers you could need. Who needs clean diapers in baby heaven anyway? You can go diaperless and hatless and clothesless. Let those little fat legs and belly and all that brown hair soak up the sun. I often wonder what color your eyes would have been. What your face would've changed into by now at a little over 4 months old. If I'd still think you looked like me while everyone else told me you looked like Tommy...lol. I want to believe you'll stay a baby forever. And if Heaven is truly real, that I will arrive sometime soon to you, and you will be my tiny baby, no longer lifeless and still, but squirmy and wiggly. You'll know exactly who I am and I will meet you at the gates and they will hand you back to me, as quick as I handed you to them...we will know each other. And I will get to do all the things  I never got to do here. You will be free to grow up at that point, so long as I can watch you. What if Daddy gets there before me? I wouldn't want to steal that experience from him. But could they just save you as a newborn for me til I get there? Til then I suppose I will live vicariously through you, preserving your memory, wearing tokens of your memory that I believe reverberate your legend on my skin, in jewelry, in my pocket, in my heart. I only hope to raise more children from birth until I take my last breath. They will never be you, but special in their own way. They will know you and love you like I do. Shade speaks of you often. We can't even go a day without your name. It makes my heart flutter out of my chest when I hear it. Or see it typed. Even from people I've never laid eyes on. You mean that much to me <3

My best friend's first OB appt was today. She got her first ultrasound at 5w3d, all is visible is a gestational sac so far. She is worried of course that something is wrong, and I assured her, that with either of my little ones I never saw a fetal pole until like 6w+. Which is why they usually won't do an ultrasound that early. So then I started snapping her shots of Emma's ultrasounds for reference so she wouldn't worry. This was perhaps a bad idea, as by the time I got to her last ultrasound at 37w4d... her little smooshed up face, when I know she should've came out then, it would've saved her if we'd have only known she'd be all tangled up so shortly after. Her edd is 9/5/15. That date hurts my soul, of course not her fault or anyone's fault, but I am hoping they change her EDD once the baby is visible and measurable. Not that the likelihood of her baby coming on its DD is high, but still. That was Emma's DD. I estimated it to be August 29. She always measured a week or so ahead, and they always kept the Sept 5 DD throughout my pregnancy. I KNOW when she was conceived, and next time I will demand that my wishes be honored and the DD kept at when I know she was conceived, not LMP. Both of my babies measured a week or so ahead of their clinical DDs, and Shade came on his own at 38w and was born at 38w3d perfectly healthy. I think my body tried to evict Emma at 36w when I was found to be dilated to 3cm and 50% effaced already. My dilation halted and I was dilated to 3cm and 60% effaced up to the day I delivered her sleeping. I think my body should've been listened to... she should've been evicted medically earlier. God, if I could go back. If we could all go back. I did ask and ask and ask to be induced because I felt I was ready.  Whos to say something wouldn't have happened later? Who knows. But, I sure feel like this next time I will listen to my body more... and be a bigger advocate for myself and my unborn baby.


I want to be more excited, and I wanted us to be pregnant together and with both of her losses she would've been far ahead of me. I am hoping that I am not far behind her now. I am doing everything humanly possible to make that happen.

Sometimes, I think the world is being a dick. Then other times, I'm able to look at it differently. Like for instance the other night on my phone, I was browsing a website looking at clothes. I cam across a shirt called "The Emma Sleep Shirt". I was like, ahh there's that beautiful name. then, seconds later, I was in a different section, and all of a sudden, something I didn't even click on called "The Caroline Snit Shirt" popped up (don't ask me what snit is, but its some sort of material I guess?) like I had clicked on it to add it to my basket. Emma Caroline. Was that you saying hello?

Its a new year, winter...cold and dreary. I am already looking forward to when it'll be warm again. the good news about that, is that in only about 3 months, itll be getting warmer again. Spring will be just around the corner. all things will try to renew... of course I will never be renewed or as much alive as I once was. This I have accepted. However, by then I hope that I will be able to have a new life within me that will renew my faith that all things in this world cannot be bad forever. I truly do not think life is meant to be lived this way. Something has to give, eventually. I can't imagine that anyone would expect someone to spend the rest of their life empty and grieving so hard.









I must expand on how I think 'empty' might be portrayed. Yes, I have my sweet sunshine boy, Shade. However, there is a PART of me, a huge part, as huge of a part as he fills, thats how huge the part that will forever be empty and dead and alone and miserable of me is. So when I refer to my depression, my emptiness, my loneliness, I am referring to that part. Of course I love my sweet Shadey with everything in me. His smile and his sweet eyes and those long eyelashes and that spunky personality keep me going. Of course I love my caring, loving, husband (who I'd like to beat sometimes but who doesn't have those moments hehe) more than he can imagine, and my parents and the rest of my family...but again, there's just that part of me has become what it is. If anyone cannot accept that, then they shall not accept me, for that part of me is as important, and as big as the rest of me is. that part, no matter what happens, shall remain unaffected by any good or bad that may happen. that gaping hole that exists in my heart should never be filled, but only healed, patched up, have some salve applied...it'll never go away. For as long as I'm breathing, it will be there. That's the part that Emma took with her when she left me.





I have noticed that when everything first happened, there were tons of people rushing to be by our side. Comforting us, consoling us, offering condolences, favors, food, whatever. None of that mattered, we appreciated it of course, but what was most appreciated was the fact that anyone offered to be there for us. Something like that is irreplaceable. However, now, that the dust has settled and its been over 4 months... the group has dwindled back down to what it was before everything happened. I'm cool with that. I only need the people who I truly know will be there. But its almost like some people, were all excited to talk to me when they knew I had a bundle of joy coming expected any moment, to offer up help, to come visit, to just call to say hello or to check on 'us'. Now that I have nothing to offer, and my positivity is gone, I am depressed, not very optimistic, often complain a lot or want to talk about things that aren't so happy happy joy joy (this is just me, now, that may never change...sorry not sorry, I can't help it?) and I'm not expecting new life, but instead filled with death and emptiness... those people don't call anymore. They don't visit when I'm around. They don't message me, they don't just check up on me to offer help. Yes, I'm totally able to lift and move and do what I can with no restrictions other than that I have water arms, and the only thing I'm of any assistance with lifting is perhaps a 300lb dead weight patient from a stretcher to a hospital bed... but that doesn't mean I don't need help. Or that I don't want someone just to come over, visit, have a cup of coffee with me, or a pop what have you... just sit around and talk. Sure you may have to tolerate my negativity, but maybe I need that boost and maybe talking about it my conversation and my talk will turn positive within minutes?  Maybe it would be nice just to know someone is still there for me? I know everyone in my close circle may still be grieving just like me. I know the sight of my face for some people may be just something they don't want to deal with because it brings back everything. My living room and home are filled with photos of Emma's sweet face, which might make people uncomfortable. But I live with this face, this body, these feelings, those pictures, these memories only she and I had together... I live with that daily. And I'm not trying to throw a pity party or have PMS (poor me syndrome), but I have just noticed that some have shied away from me. I apologize that I am who I am, an even worse version of me than I used to be... but I can assure you its not because I want it to be that way. My time of need will always be NOW, and that will never change, and I will never be able to forget now.

As we approach spring, I'm counting down, yes...and as I hopefully prepare to be with child again...all the memories of the first ultrasounds, heart beats, exams, feelings I had with each new day with a new growing life in me flood back, and I feel like I am so ready to experience that again, and spring would be perfect for that as all things try to renew. I know it will restore my faith and help me to heal in a way nothing else could. I struggle constantly, daily, with the thought of 'replacement', but then I know...its not. Its just as if she were here and I was trying for another child. Bad part, she's NOT here. And that's where grief is a cruel beast.














Its not new news, but to those following my blog, last night I received my acceptance into Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep's Volunteer Photographer program. I am so honored and I cannot wait to let Emma's legacy live on through photographing other parents' most precious moments with their child.

Anyway... I shall stop here, that is enough.
xoxo