Ethan's Birth Story

I still cannot believe that I am able to write this story now. Nearly two weeks in, and we are all still so enamored with this precious boy of ours. Justin and I catch ourselves staring at Ethan and thinking of how amazing it is (& scary really) that he nearly wasn't here. As we ended the year with heavy hearts, Justin didn't argue with me when I said I wasn't up for trying for our next baby until after the year ahead. While he didn't argue with me, God did. He worked in my heart and challenged my words and my stance on the matter daily. Gentle as it was, I knew I would fold to His pushing. Of course, while I wondered what Justin's reaction would be when I told him I had changed my mind, I was surprised and a little amazed to find mine wasn't the only heart God had been working on. Giving up control, realizing there would never be a perfect time to try or another time when I wasn't afraid was definitely one of the best decisions I have ever made. It is amazing now to see this part of our precious baby's story. My doctor and I decided early on that a repeat csection would be the preferred course for me. This pretty much settled a lot of fears as far as the delivery process went, but of course as the day grew closer I began to question what, if anything, had changed. My parents had the brilliant idea of coming to town to pick up Reagan the day before our delivery rather than having me drive out and leave him at their house. We had pretty much rehearsed as much as we could as far as Reagan staying with my parents. Seriously. My parents went so far as to invite us for a sleepover a few weeks before so Reagan could see that it was okay to stay at Juju & Pops' overnight. The fact my sister & brother are still at home & have magic aunt and uncle powers really helped sell this as well. Since my parents were coming earlier in the day for Reagan, I took Reagan to have lunch with Justin one last time. My brother works with Justin as well, so we got to make quite the time of it with Uncle No-way (Noah) & his daddy with McDonald's kids meals for everyone. We drove back home and read a few books together played with his blocks.  *I just want to note how "real" everything had become to me the day before Ethan arrived. Realizing it was our last day together, I wanted our last day & a half together to be the best, but unfortunately Reagan had other plans. I spent more time disciplining, asking the question "Why would you...?", and taking care of last minute tidying. It was so far from what I hoped to leave him with that I broke down in tears halfway through the day. I actually considered naptime just before my parents picked him up the next day, but knew these were precious moments I would be losing if I decided to go that route. Nothing went perfectly. It was actually quite the mess, and I had to fight new tears as my parents drove away with him.* My parents arrived right on time on Halloween. Reagan eagerly helped haul all of his things out to Pops' truck. My parents and I talked a little of the upcoming excitement. They asked about a few routines we had (nothing unique, just what Reagan is capable of doing alone & what he still needs help with), & then we discussed the gameplan for the next day. Then they were off. Thankfully Justin was already headed home because I felt the quiet loud and clear and I did not like it. While really bad storms were forecasted for our area that night, they weren't due until later in the night. Justin had a good laugh watching me climb up into his truck (my idea as we hadn't ridden together in his truck in about 3 years). For anyone wondering his truck is pretty much like the one at the end of "Back to the Future", so it takes quite the hop to get up there. We rode to Olive Garden to enjoy lasagna, & chicken gnocchi soup, & breadsticks. We hadn't been in a year or so and we had gone there for dinner the night before Reagan arrived, so I guess this is tradition now. Not being able to fit my foot in flats, I waddled in quite nicely in my leggings and semi-dressy top and tennis shoes that mimicked my white keds from kindergarten. I barely fit behind the table in our booth, but that didn't stop our night. We talked about Reagan and what Ethan might look like and what the plan was for the next day. Dinner was absolutely amazing & Justin even surprised me with tiramisu, which we got to go so we could enjoy it in bed later. We beat the storm home and managed hot showers before crawling into bed. After the fiasco I'd had with Reagan trying to get my iv, Justin had suggested we stay up until midnight drinking water and Gatorade. To not worry over the storm, we turned up the Frasier reruns and enjoyed our dessert. Being used to the quiet at night, I quit being upset Reagan wasn't there and just enjoyed the time I had with Justin as we jumped on this path all over again.  We had to be up a little before 4 since our delivery was scheduled at 7. I was so worried I would make us late for the hospital at 5 that, unlike with Reagan, I rushed around this time to get us out of the house on time. Also, unlike with Reagan, my excitement was overriding my fear that morning. We made it to the hospital in plenty of time. After walking through the creepy parking garage, and then through the even creepier deserted part of the parking garage that leads straight to the hospital, we were met with locked doors. (This is one of the best hospitals, but seriously yucky location downtown.) We followed the directions posted on the door and rang into security to let us in. I guess seeing my giant belly on the camera convinced them we were legitimate patients and not up to no good. :) I could not remember any of the hospital from before, so I followed Justin up to the right floor (which is seriously a task). There were no nurses at the front desk when we arrived at Labor and Delivery, so Justin had to ring the bell. *I HATED having him ring the bell. I just knew it would make them mad and I would get payback later.* The first nurse that came to see us looked 10 types of tired, over-it-all, and just plain mean. You can bet I plastered on my biggest smile and was praying she wasn't as bad as she appeared, or, better yet, that she wouldn't be my nurse. Thankfully, she only took my id and paperwork before vanishing to the back again. Another nurse walked out (slightly less angry looking) and told us to follow her. She gave me the first bed in the back, leaving me completely lost for anything familiar as last time I was put somewhere in the back and most of the lights were dimmed originally. She asked if we were excited (small talk I appreciated) & then gave me my "beautiful" gown to hop into. Does anything make it more real than those first instructions they give you in the hospital. Just like before, I had Justin follow me to the bathroom to hold all my clothes (saving them from the floor) & help me tie into my gown. Once again, he had a good laugh at my expense as he finally saw the cup for my final pee test this pregnancy. Apparently no matter how many times I complained of the level of skill required to pee in a small cup, completely blinded by my giant belly, with no ability to perfectly aim was all wasted on him until he saw the physical proof.  When we got back to my bed, Justin tossed my things in my bag. Well, he tried. I actually had to cram them into the bag because the smaller bag I had chosen was packed FULL. The nurse who had taken me back had vanished, leaving me to imagine her grabbing the dreaded iv pack I knew was coming. I sat up on the bed awkwardly, trying to appear relaxed like I wasn't about to be living in that bed for the next several hours. A new nurse walked back towards us and introduced herself. I am happy to say that this one, Leslie, was just about everything I had hoped for in a delivery nurse. She was calm and sort of quiet, but so sweet. Plus, she gave off the impression she was using all sorts of secret tricks to keep me calm and as comfortable as anyone could make this trip. I was a little upset she never raised the bed all of the way for me to sit up straight, but for whatever reason it actually seemed to help me stay a bit cooler and avoid the morning nausea that was creeping up. Maybe just a happy coincidence, but, either way, after awhile I got used to being only slightly raised up in bed. She took her time setting everything up. The second she hooked up the baby monitor, I felt a 100 times better. Hearing Ethan's heartbeat for hours was so comforting. We talked about the bad weather, about Reagan's excitement at being a big brother, and I eventually asked the questions that had been worrying me the most. No one had bragged this pregnancy that the iv was the worst part- leaving me to wonder if I needed to add back spinal block and catheter to my "Only Hurts for a Minute" fear list. Unfortunately, that is the one thing Leslie didn't really help with. She seemed a bit confused why I was even asking, but she was still nice about answering...even though it left me freaking out a bit. I am happy to report that she searched carefully before even attempting my iv. She got it her first try and I did NOT vomit even once!!! (Unlike with Reagan where I got sick 3 times before the nurse got it in.) Just as she finished, a new nurse walked in and introduced herself. Oh, sweet Aja (pronounce Asia)- the dream delivery nurse. She was happy, peppy, talkative, attentive, and yet still extremely efficient. I told Justin later, Leslie was to me as Aja was to my sister. Apparently while I love calmer people, in high stress situations I actually love the peppier hard workers like my sister to the quieter ones like me. Aja set to work on our paperwork and asking me all of the questions, while at the same time talking to us about everything under the sun. Justin had her rolling as he asked about her computer programs (computer tech always) and talked about coffee. She was so sweet and even told him to go grab a cup for himself while we were in the back. Eventually there was another opening in the conversation for questions, and as Aja was already explaining the process it seemed a good time to reiterate those questions of mine. I was assured the spinal was "nothing", and she laughed about the catheter (but if you've had one when you aren't numb, they aren't funny). She promised she would wait as long as she could after the spinal before she took care of that part, but if the doctor rushed her it would just be a bit "uncomfortable" (or as I knew it would- hurt).  The anesthesiologist walked back to us to start his own round of questions. Tired as the poor man was, he was also really nice. Justin would not stop staring at his computer, which rolled around on a battery. (I put that in for Justin to enjoy later.) True to fashion, both men started laughing and talking tech programs and computers. Seriously, the man started swiping his card and showing Justin how he signs in and out of the hospital's fancy programs. Justin was in heaven. Aja turned around laughing and asked me if Justin was really impressed with them or was he just trying to be nice. I assured her he never puts on like this and was actually, truly impressed with their technology and their coffee. Just as the anesthesiologist finished asking me his questions, another one showed up. Apparently the first guy had worked over and was finally headed home. I'm not going to lie, y'all. When I saw my anesthesiologist was a woman no taller than me, I accepted the fact I would definitely be feeling that spinal block this go around. It wasn't to be mean. I had just figured that the rather large man that had performed my last spinal block had probably managed no pain for me because of the amount of pressure he had been able to put behind it or something. Again, Stacey (my anesthesiologist) had to have matched my height and my (non-pregnant) weight. She was nice though and seemed confident enough that I decided I really didn't care to worry anymore. Of course the doctor called right about then to say she was on her way up. Everything suddenly became even more real and I caught myself wondering what on earth I was doing there. Seriously, even with 9 months of growing, sciatica pain, giant belly, kicks under my ribs, ultrasound pics on my fridge, and hours that morning of hearing his heartbeat, I still had not been able to accept how truly real our sweet Ethan was.  Aja finished up the last of her paperwork and gave Justin his scrubs. She explained he needed to wait for her there and she would be back for him just as the doctor started the surgery. Unlike before, she and my anesthesiologist walked me back to the operating room together. I saw the doctor and the (not nice nurse from her office) coming in, but was happy to see both smiling and excited. Stacey and Aja must have known how scary this can all suddenly seem because they started asking if I was excited, to which of course I said yes. Then they asked what name we had chosen and I caught myself relaxing a bit as I told them. In that moment it clicked just like I needed it to that this wasn't about me. This was about something so much bigger than me. I was just blessed enough to be a part of it (granted I still acknowledged that spinal was going to suck). Aja said she loved the name Ethan and mentioned how she knew lots of Ethans growing up, but we don't hear it anymore. I told her we chose it because of its meaning, but that I first remember hearing it in a Christmas movie growing up- "All I Want for Christmas". It was the big brother's name and he was such a good big brother in the movie. We were all smiling and agreeing what a nice name it is and how ready for the holidays we all were. I climbed up on the table and nervously waited for my marching orders. I had forgotten had incredibly impossible that hunched position feels, especially when you feel like you should fall off of that table and onto the sweet nurse trying to hold you up. Stacey was really nice, but when she said the local would sting and burn for a second I believed her. To be fair, it did sting for a second- enough that I let off this weird, sort of loud, inhaling/exhaling thing I have apparently started doing with needles this last year. Still, if you didn't know I never did it before, you wouldn't think I were doing anything else than remembering to breath. It never did burn and then it was over. I didn't feel anything else afterwards. What followed was all pretty basic- I laid down, legs were heavy, they hooked up everything else. About the time Aja was doing that unpleasant catheter, I made a face in preparation for what I thought was ahead. Stacey was watching me like a hawk and noticed. She immediately asked what was wrong. I told her nothing, but she mentioned my face. I didn't even know what to say. I was so nervous. Then, Stacey asked if I had felt Aja put the catheter in just then. I immediately un-scrunched my eyes and told her if Aja was done then I was fine. This sent Aja into a little laughter and she explained how nervous I had been about that part. Stacey laughed and said of course that made sense. I explained it was a tie in between that and the iv. Then I remember Stacey said no one likes iv's because they are such big needles. I had to laugh at that one because I remember thinking of the one she had just used on my back, but here she was talking about an iv needle.  The doctor soon walked in. She was talking way more to me than she had at Reagan's delivery. Stacey kept checking on me. I had told her about feeling nauseated during my last delivery and she had explained it was likely due to my blood pressure dropping after the spinal block. She gave me something for it ahead of time with Ethan, but for the life of me I can't remember what it was. Still, she kept asking how I felt and talking to me- which I loved because it made it a little easier to lay there a bit awkwardly while everyone rushed around. They went to hang the curtain and whoever was doing it dropped it on my face. Y'all, I am embarrassed to admit it, but I just laid there. I didn't know what to say. I mean, do you yell out "Umm, hey!" or clear your throat or...like what. I knew Stacey was behind me, but I guess this was the full minute she looked away. I didn't know where anyone else was, and my arms were strapped down for the moment so I couldn't pick it up myself. Stacey was the one who discovered me, laying there like an dumb-dumb. She quickly called on whoever was supposed to be pinning up the sheet and they sounded oblivious to what had happened. I wanted to laugh, but I was so embarrassed because, seriously, what was I supposed to have said. It was something else. Next thing I knew, my doctor said she had just pinched the fire out of me, so if I hadn't yelped, she was starting. I heard Aja jump and run out the doors for Justin, and pretty soon afterwards I heard them walk back in. Justin took his place by my head and I quit staring at the ceiling tiles and lights and immediately stared into his eyes. He started talking to me about how much hair Ethan would have (we had seen some in his last ultrasound), how much he would weigh, and what Reagan would do when he saw him. Stacey quit talking to me. I am guessing Justin talking to me was enough to gage how I was doing. I know personally I relaxed when he came in. It all felt normal again and right.  It seemed like no time at all before my doctor was telling me he was almost here. Something we hadn't anticipated until the last month was that Ethan was going to stay sideways until he came out. Good thing I was happy with a csection because that is exactly how he would have needed to come out anyway. I kept anticipating the heavy pulls and tugs, but apparently Stacey had some magic up her sleeve because unlike with Reagan, I didn't feel the first push or tug with Ethan. My doctor told them to pull the curtain down so I could see him. Stacey took Justin's phones for pictures. What I didn't expect, but I am so happy happened, was to see Ethan come out. Obviously the bump covered the worst of it, so all I saw was the doctor pulling this big, beautiful baby straight up and over my bump and holding him just on the other side of the curtain. He was so close to me, and yet I laid there wondering where he had come from. He had actually been with me this whole time. The tears started pouring and I took my one free arm to try to push them away. It didn't work. I just kept staring at him until the nurses finally grabbed him. Thankfully I could just turn my head and see him right on the side. I couldn't quit crying and smiling. He was real. He was right there and he was crying loudly. I watched the nurses beat hard on his back, which would make him cry. The second she stopped though, his little legs would curl up and he would fall asleep. This had me crying and smiling and laughing. It was exactly as I knew he would be. The nurse kept having to start the process all over, and it lasted so long that I wondered if I actually would be able to hold him while the doctor finished. Justin was right beside him, and started turning to me and giving me the sign that he was okay. Eventually they finished checking him though, and the nurse brought him to me. They unstrapped my other arm so that I could hold him, and they even helped slide him under my gown so we could do skin to skin. I kept trying to stop crying so that I could see him, but it was so hard. He was so beautiful, y'all. When the doctor finished, they moved me back to my bed and took us back to recovery. Justin was right there with us the whole time. Aja shut our curtains so I had privacy, but another woman had come in at this point and was right beside us. Unlike 3 years ago, they didn't seem to be limiting her guests pre-surgery. I was so wrapped up in Ethan, I really didn't think too much of it, but Justin was unimpressed and told me there were 5 people beside us. They did seem to grow louder, talking about her photographer coming in and how great she would look afterwards and such. I am all for being peppy and joyful during that time, but it was hard to be understanding when those were my first moments with our sweet boy. Still, did I mention he was beautiful, y'all. Ethan started routing and I was so scared I was wrong about it, that I didn't want to say anything. Aja and Leslie had told me that every nurse was trained to help with nursing though, so to ask for help when I needed it. Justin saw Ethan scooting down and told me we should tell Aja. I wasn't sure at first, but then I realized she would know if he was really attempting to nurse or not so I had better ask. Justin called her over and she quickly attempted to help me help him latch. He turned us down point blank when we attempted to help, so Aja stepped away for a few minutes. Soon, he was back at it again. This time, I called out for her quickly. She came back and this time he latched. A wave of relief of joy swept over me all over again in that moment.  We were only in recovery for an hour and I was ready to show Ethan to my family and Reagan. They had already texted and brought Justin a coffee, but they hadn't come back to see us (obviously that wasn't ideal). Just as we were leaving the room though, I started getting really hot- the kind of hot that makes you sick. I asked for some ice chips and explained how hot I was. It wasn't unusual so none of us thought anything of it. I had gotten hot with Reagan too, but the cool ice and drinks had helped keep me from being sick. (I got sick one time after recovery with Reagan & it was because my first nurse told me to only drink hot drinks after my surgery. Too hot from the medicine + too many hot teas= sick 1 time & then fine.) As Aja and Justin pushed me to my room though, I realized I was not going to have the same experience this time. Just as they got my bed in place, I looked at Justin and told him I was going to be sick (& with the baby still on my chest & while I laid flat in bed). Aja looked panicked, but Justin remembered the last time this had happened and quickly told Aja to grab me the big bucket they keep in the room for you. She looked at him puzzled but got it right by my face just in time for me to turn my head and get sick. It was such a lovely moment, y'all. Right after that they took Reagan to the nursery to weigh him and do all the necessary things they had put off so I could hold him right after delivery. Justin went with him while I met my new nurse (Erica) and the nurse's aid (Ms. Donna). They were so sweet, but unfortunately the first thing they knew about me was that I had just gotten sick. The second thing they knew about me was that I was still sick. It was only a minute or two later before Erica was grabbing me the bucket again and Ms. Donna was hovering over me with a cool wash cloth and placing a cold towel on my neck. I honestly can't remember now how many times I got sick in those first few minutes they were with me, but I do remember they mentioned my family was outside & asked if I needed a minute. Of course I opted for a few minutes to pull it together, in the hopes I wouldn't look sick for them. Not long after they left though I realized I still felt sick, I was still hot, and now I had no one in the room to hand me the bucket if I needed it. My mother must have telepathy though because she walked in after several minutes to check on me. I was still okay, so my sister, daddy, and Reagan followed her. At some point right after Aja ran in with a bag and asked if I knew how big Ethan was. I told her no and she just grinned. She said Justin had to tell me because he was so excited. I kind of laughed, but I was so curious.  The rest is sort of a blur. I know Justin was back in the room with Ethan right after that. My family had heard I was sick and had managed to keep the preacher that visits the mothers at the hospital from coming into my room, though he didn't seem to understand how sick I was when they first explained. I know Justin told me Ethan was 9 lbs & 1 oz & my mother offered to finish filling out Ethan's hospital door sign for me. Sick as I was, I am my mother's daughter. Blanks spaces aren't allowed and baby signs are no exception. After they hung the sign, Justin left with my sister and daddy to have lunch with Reagan. They even stopped by several stores in search of a fan for my room to help me out before grabbing my brother from work so he could come up there. My poor mother had to witness me get sick several more times. Honestly, I didn't mind being sick. It was just part of it, but in that moment, I really was over it. I felt so bad, but worse that this was how everyone was seeing me that day rather than being able to joke and be celebratory for Ethan only. My mom started pouring ice water on the washcloth that was laying on my head, & the nurse went to get me the first round of nausea medication she would offer me that day. Everyone came back, with a little fan, and got to see Ethan for a little bit. Reagan was absolutely adorable with his brother! The nurse brought another round of medicine to see if it would work better, but it didn't. Justin hooked up my new fan and used the food tray/table to put it right on my face. My family left so my brother could get back to work (not like they were missing anything, right). My nurse Erica and I had had it with me being sick by this point. She suggested hooking up an iv bag to re-hydrate me and see if that would help. I eagerly accepted & she went to work. I caught a 20 minute nap at this point and when I woke up, I felt so much better. We kept the iv hooked up a while longer just to be on the safe side, but it was so nice to have even a little bit of relief. From there on, the day got better.  Justin and I had initially planned to stay the full 3 days, but by the second day I really was over the hospital. Justin slept somewhat at night- waking up only to change diapers. I wasn't sleeping at all. I learned the first night that Ethan wanted to be held and cuddled all night, and I wasn't the one to argue with his plan. Unlike my stay with Reagan, the nurses didn't seem to have a set time for coming into my room, making rest impossible. My medicine was brought at all different times and if my nurse wasn't checking on me, the nurses from the nursery were checking on Ethan. There were also people coming in to drop off towels, take the trash, bring in meals, pick up meals... the list went on and on. Respectful celebration (being quiet) seems to be an old habit as our neighbors had the noisiest rooms I've ever heard. Truly. My family commented on it. Justin's grandmother commented about it. Plus, Mr. Patience himself (Justin) mentioned it so many times that I lost track. While I was no longer sick and nauseated, I felt pretty terrible. Maybe because I am a little older, had this surgery before, and because I had been sick so many times right after surgery the day before- I was hurting badly and struggling to move about as easily as I had before. I actually asked for the pain medicine early in the second day because it was bothering me that much. The idea of "resting" one more day in the hospital was not appetizing. I was ready to be home with our baby, in our bed where I could snuggle and rest with our baby, and have his big brother with us. Both of our doctors gave us great reports that day, so Justin and I fully planned to accept the offer to leave on the third day. Plans change though, right. Friday night, Ethan refused to sleep in his bed once again. I wanted nothing more than to snuggle him in the bed, but the hospital wouldn't approve. I couldn't bring myself to send him to the nursery, especially as he wanted to be curled up on me. Still, I was so tired and frustrated. I worried the next day would be marked as it had with Reagan- finding out our baby had jaundice and having to keep him in the nursery all day except to feed him. I begged Justin to stay up for just 1 hour so I could sleep. That plan didn't last 10 minutes. Ethan was having none of it that night. He only wanted me to hold him. I took him back and tried to focus on the sweetness in that moment. Exhausted, that was pretty hard. Eventually, I decided I couldn't sit up anymore. I laid the bed back, put Ethan flat beside me and began studying his sweet face. I was wide awake at that moment and swore I wouldn't go to sleep. Unfortunately, I was too tired to commit to that decision it seems. I woke up to the Ethan's nurse checking his temp (or so I thought). She said something about doing blood work and me, in a sleepy stupor, mumbled something along the lines of "Oh, of course.". As she left, I popped out of bed as fast as I could. I hated I had gone to sleep, though she hadn't said the first thing about it. Justin woke up and watched Ethan while I ran to the bathroom to get dressed and get ready for the day. As I was getting ready, I replayed the morning. She hadn't been taking his temp, but had been checking his jaundice levels I realized. If she was doing a blood test...that just couldn't be a good sign, I thought. Soon she came back and took Ethan to the nursery for the morning. I told Justin my worries, but he agreed with me that I was probably looking too much into it. He had coffee planned with his boss, but offered to stay with me. I told him there was no need. I could see the doctor coming to check on me without him there and I told myself Ethan was fine. It had to be old fears bothering me. If only. Just as Justin was heading back to the hospital, the pediatrician on call that weekend walked in. Of course, it was the same one who had given me trouble with Reagan. The same bearer of bad news- and stomped all over my first attempts at mothering without so much as a flinch. It took her five seconds to start out the same way all over again. Sure enough, Ethan had jaundice according to her. While she said his bilirubin number was high and repeated the whole process that would take place, all I could think was what a fear seeker she was. His doctor had told us there had been no signs of jaundice the day before. How could it come overnight? His eyes weren't even yellow as his brother's had been. Ethan was eating regularly- both breasts. He was pooping out all the ick from his life inside of me. Everything had been so different from Reagan & unlike our first couple of days with Reagan, Justin and I had been watching for all the signs of jaundice this time. Plus, this was the same woman who had told me it was my fault for not feeding Reagan enough that he had gotten jaundice. The same one who had told me we would just supplement and his weight would pick up in spite of my attempts to nurse. She was just being herself. That had to be it. I remember standing a little taller and not backing down as easily as I had with Reagan. If we really needed to stay, and go through a whole day of barely seeing our baby, she was going to have to offer real facts and explanations to me this time. Only, she didn't. She simply repeated his number being high, it being smarter to keep him and treat the jaundice that day, and that unlike with formula fed babies, there really was no way to know for certain that Ethan had been getting enough milk from me. I seriously debated telling her to call our doctor or let us leave, but my resolve fell to pieces because this was our baby- not a birthday cake from a bakery or a car or any other thing that you deal with other people over and can walk away. The tears started streaming down my face and once again I had to look at the dumbfounded look on her face- like I was crazy for crying. Truly, I hate crying in front of people anyway, but her being oblivious as to why drove me crazy. Justin walked in right then. He took one look at me and walked right over. I took a step back and let him take over as I just couldn't anymore. He seemed to have the same thoughts as I had. He asked the same questions and stated the same facts. How could he be sick when we had been doing everything right as far as we knew. Formula was the only answer she gave. When she walked out, I went straight to the bathroom and had the cry I needed. I didn't want to be back in this spot. I knew I would see Ethan only a handful of times for the rest of the day and night. I knew I would only hold him to feed him and I knew I would have to keep handing him over. I knew I would have to fight the feelings of my baby not belonging to me and feeling stuck. Plus, not fully understanding how we were back in this spot again, I wondered if we shouldn't have fought her harder and left. The nurse who brought Ethan to our room of course heard me crying and offered to explain the process to me again. Justin told her we had already done this before and that is why I was upset. When she left at least 3 other nurses, including mine came in offering to help in the same way. I tried to stop crying so I could get back out there and stop worrying everyone, but it took awhile. (Yes, I know, just as I knew then, there is so much worse that we could have been dealt that day and there are parents who go without their babies for much longer than we did and who have to watch their babies go through so much more. In that moment though, none of that made it better or stopped me from being upset. This was our baby.) Justin texted my mother and explained what was going on. I nursed Ethan and we called the nursery to come get him. Justin sat on the bed with me and we tried to rest. It just did not work out. I googled high jaundice numbers and came up with something called breastfeeding jaundice, which is apparently normal and can produce a higher number without so much fear. Of course this sent me into a quiet tirade with Justin as we continued to air our frustrations about the situation with each other. We debated what we were supposed to do and wondered if we had handled that morning correctly or should we have argued with the doctor more. Next door, I heard another mother asking her nurse to explain how her baby had jaundice and had it been her fault for nursing her baby. I looked at Justin and shook my head. This pediatrician, y'all, is terrible at blaming breastfeeding for the cause of jaundice and that is truly the only explanation she gives. It is mind-blowing trying to figure out how to help your baby when there is no correction or explanation other than being told you are doing it wrong. I'll fast-forward through the day because honestly every minute played the same tune. We questioned if we had done the right thing. We repeated our problems with the pediatrician. One of our favorite nurses was on call that night, so we had the reprieve of someone who knew us and our story which made it feel so much better. Ethan- unlike his brother- never returned to our room tired. He cheerfully looked at me every time and latched like a pro. He continued to eat well and dirty a diaper before each delivery back to the nursery. This alone made the whole day so much easier on me, as I realized Ethan wasn't bothered by the situation nearly as much as I 'd anticipated. It became easier to focus and do what we needed to rather than being anymore upset than we needed to be.  One of our night nurses in the nursery was one we remembered from our stay with Reagan. She came across very gruff and irritable. Neither of us were fans of hers and we dreaded seeing her come in that night. We were pleasantly proven wrong though. As she walked into our room that night, she paused. She said Ethan was cracking her up in the back. Apparently, unlike the other babies, when she placed him under the light, he was throwing his arms straight out beside him like he was resting on the beach or something. We both laughed and my heart was lightened. Justin and I had JUST finished saying to one another that one thing making the day harder was people talking to us like it was no big deal. Like Ethan was just another baby, another person- without any respect to the fact that our lives revolve around taking care of this precious person. They become our life, so empathy and respect go a long way. Then, here this nurse was, Mrs. Lynn, making us laugh. She was assuring us that when she took our baby back from us, she saw him. He wasn't a thing to her. He was a baby. He was a person. Telling us something so small as to how funny he was back there, helped assure us he was seen and therefore safe and we could trust her. After that, I found myself opening up to her throughout the night and asking questions about other issues we were having (like the moment when he knicked me while nursing). By the time she brought him back for his final feeding before his morning nursery visit, Justin and I were in love. She explained he would be under the light until the pediatrician arrived, but that they had already run his blood test for the day. She said she believed he would pass the test this fine and started to explain how much better he looked. We had noticed around his eyes were yellow when they first brought him to us, but we thought it was adhesive for the shades they put on them before going under the light. She explained that had actually been the jaundice appearing where the light wasn't able to shine on him. She also explained he hadn't had breastfeeding jaundice (I hadn't even mentioned it) as that doesn't appear for weeks, so the high number was a serious concern. Justin and I were shocked. So much relief in so short a time. She looked surprised when I repeated her words and affirmed it wasn't breastfeeding that had caused the issue. She asked if the doctor hadn't explained this to us, at which point I told her what the pediatrician said. Mrs. Lynn just shook her head and began explaining how some doctors, especially the older ones, are not breastfeeding advocates so they often fail to explain things correctly. It is easier to encourage formula which can be measured rather than encouraging a mother to continue nursing for some doctors. Seeing as this was our second experience with that doctor, we agreed she had hit the nail on the head. She then explained how jaundice works, told us that the bruises that had appeared on Ethan at his birth had likely been the cause of his jaundice, and even went so far as to go ahead and prepare me to accept the fact our next baby will likely have it as well since both boys have had it so far. She assured me it was NOT our fault the boys had it and that it is extremely common. Then, then she did what we needed most and assured us we had done the right thing in staying for the night. I told her, and I meant it, she should be sent to every mother's room after their baby is said to have jaundice. I would have accepted it instantly had she been there to explain the situation to us. Needless to say, our morning picked up from that morning on. By the time the pediatrician arrived for the morning, I was too happy to be mad at her anymore. She is as she is, but thankfully there are still people like Mrs. Lynn in the world who care enough to make tough situations better. Not only did the doctor tell us that Ethan's number had dropped drastically, but he had gained 2 ounces. This was something she made sure to mention really never happens with breastfed babies. We were cleared to go home! We were surprised how quickly everything moved afterwards. Justin began taking bags out just to help with the process, but we thought we would be stuck until after lunch like with Reagan. Actually, a nurse from the nursery brought Ethan to me almost immediately. She ran through the pages of information we needed to read and sign, gave us a bag full of goodies (like diapers), and reminded us we could call the nursery with any questions even after we went home. My nurse walked in and gave me the fastest version of all the information they wanted me to know. It was about that time that I remembered Ethan needed to be changed into his coming home outfit. It was so adorable and felt so strange realizing we were actually going home that day!!! We were shocked to be home by 10:30 that morning. We quickly changed Ethan into jammies while we stole quick showers before my parents dropped Reagan off. My mother made us a week's worth of food and I could not believe it. It was so needed and appreciated. Once my family left, it was just the four of us. That, that has been an adventure in and of itself. It is something we are still learning our way around, but it has been wonderful. Reagan is loving his baby brother and Ethan is loving all of the cuddles and milk...especially the milk it seems. We love him. So happy and thankful to be starting this part of our journey and have him a part of our family finally!  

Living the Year Faithfully

It's been awhile since I have braved this blog. To be honest, I scared myself away these last few months. I blame it on being a bit too emotional, and a little too worried to share anymore than I already have. 2017 was a bit crazy. We made a lot of joyful changes in our home, and we also lost a few of the ones that we love. It was a rough year- filled with a lot of love and a lot of fear. 

I know words of the year are a bit corny in a trendy way. I agree. Of course, you know I am about to confess that I have one. :) Faithful. My word for the year is faithful. Don't worry. I only have eyes for my husband of course. When I looked up the definition though...
(Dictionary.com) Faithful- 1. Strict or thorough in the performance of duty 2. True to one's word, promises, vows, etc. 3. Steady in allegiance or affection; loyal; constant 4. Reliable, trusted, or believed 5. Adhering or true to fact, a standard, or an original; accurate 6. Obsolete. Full of faith; believing
(Thesaurus.com) Affectionate   Allegiant  Attached   Behind One   Confiding   Conscientious   Constant   Dependable   Devoted   Dutiful   Enduring   Firm   Genuine   Hard Core   Honest   Honorable   Loving   Obediant   Resolute   Truthful   Upright   Sincere 
When I take my life in as a whole, consider all that reaches out for my attention, take into account all I do, all I must do, all I need, it is a lot to take in. There are so many distractions in my life, so many joy-suckers, attention stealers, time wasters. (I'm certain these terms exist.) It's not just social media either, though I admit I hit that Instagram button way more often than I want to admit. It's people who hurt me (mostly by hurting my loved ones and that hurts more than anything). It's comments or thoughts I have had shared with me in the past that created fears and battles that I choose to fight or contemplate fighting on a daily basis, though honestly it all leads nowhere. It's worries I cannot fight, responsibilities that are not mine, and drama that leads to nowhere that somehow makes its way to my desk. I know I shouldn't, or that I should at least be smart enough by now to trash it, but, y'all I hold onto every bit of it like it is of the utmost importance and must be handled with care. These things pile up. They all eat up not only my brainpower, but my patience, my emotions, my energy. More importantly, they eat up space in my heart and my time. So much time. 
God made me purposefully, and He blesses and builds intentionally. Calling out all the noise and casting it aside, I look at what is left. I see what has been crying out for more of my attention and it is the work I love the most in this life- being Justin's wife & Reagan's mommy. Marriage and motherhood aren't smiled on in our day and age. It is work that is more or less summed up as mere sex and diapers. The true potential, the real work, the real importance of both go unnoticed. 
If I were to grade myself according to all aspects of my job, my role, as a wife and mother, would I say I have been truly faithful to my calling thus far? Some days. There are some days, some moments, where, yes, I can say I have been truly faithful to those I love in every way. Have I been truly faithful all of the time though? No. Have I been strict with myself in my performance of duty? Have I been completely reliable; adhering to all agreements I made with my husband? Have I put the interests of my husband and our family ahead of my own selfish, brief whims and emotions? Have I kept to the standard I hold for myself- the standard which God describes in Proverbs 31- as a woman, a wife, and a mother? Have I been always affectionate, always truthful, always dutiful, always reliable, always honorable, always dependable, always constant, always resolute in my actions, my decisions, my words each day? No. Regretfully, no. I want to change this. 
Through all that happened last year in our life, I felt God changing my heart. I saw Him moving things around, making things happen for us here and there. I thought at first that He was making these adjustments to help us grow bigger; to help our family grow larger to be exact. Now, I believe He did these things to grow me, and thus grow us as a family together. My husband is the head of our family, let there be no mistake that I see and respect his position. Still, I grew up my entire life hearing my mother tell me of the great opportunities, the great power I would have in life one day. I also grew up hearing my daddy point out whenever we were alone how incredibly faithful my mother was to us in all she did and said. I've lived these last few years loving, but not acting fully in that love; watching, but not truly seeing; feeling, but not truly appreciating; planting, but not truly nourishing. No more. I know there will be slip ups along the way. I know this path God has set me on is filled with ruts and obstacles with each step, but I also know He has given me the ability to overcome them all with the love He has placed in my heart. Halfheartedly loving is really halfheartedly living. I should know because it pretty much sums up a lot of my choices in life. I want to look back on my life and know I tried my hardest; I gave my all. I want my children to know they are, and have always been, loved. I want my husband to know I have loved him to the fullest. I want that love to show in my faithfulness to my husband, to our family, and to our God because this work matters more than any other work I could ever be given.
This new light has really given me so much more hope and determination in going forward. 2017 was hard, leaving all sorts of possibilities in the steps ahead. You know I have made notes and lists of what actions exactly I want to take in this new year as I attempt to be completely faithful to those I love. For now though, I am just going to post this one note- the mindset behind all that comes next. From here on out will just be step by step effort. January so far has been pretty interesting. Hopefully I will have more to share soon. 
Anyone else looking forward to this new year?

Mischievians Birthday Party- Reagan Turns 2!

A little late, but I finally have all of the details from Reagan's 2nd birthday party pieced together. I have to say, I am pretty proud of us. It came together just as I had hoped, and our friends and family could not have made it any more exciting a celebration than they did. I think it is safe to say that we all had fun that day.

For Reagan's party theme this year, we chose "The Mischievians" by William Joyce. It is an adorable children's book about all of the little mischief makers in our homes that keep us on our toes (ex. The Remote Toter, The Stinker, The Sticky). What better way to celebrate our own little mischief maker, I thought. The only problem with this plan is that this book has no party decor to purchase, meaning we had to get creative. Yay!!!

All art supplies from Michaels - Envelopes ordered from Amazon

Custom stickers printed by Sticker You

First up were the invitations. Y'all, I really struggled with these. I lost track of how many times I opened the book in search of an idea on how to incorporate the characters into an invitation. The story plays out that 2 children, tired of being blamed for missing homework they've completed, missing remote controls, and mysterious smells, write to a doctor in search of answers. Of course, this is not an average doctor who can be reached by phone or with stamp envelope. The children instead send their letter via red balloon. With this in mind, I finally had an idea. First, we purchased a copy of "The Mischievians" for each family we were inviting. Thanks to the vintage-styled themes of Mr. Joyce's books, I was able to use a little metal, a little natural-toned paper, and a little whimsy. Justin scanned and printed out the image from the book I needed. I had found some adorable "Happy Birthday" balloon banner stickers to place across the top of the image so our guests would know it was a birthday invite. We placed the invitations in old envelopes I had found on Amazon, laid our invite on top of the book, and wrapped in some blue and white string I had found. Last, but definitely not least, we attached a single red balloon to the other end of our string. Obviously due to the size these were hand-delivered, but it honestly made it all the more fun. Reagan was so excited to take the invitation to his Aunt Ariel for her to take home. He made sure she took note of the balloon.

As for the decor, I took a picture of the book cover to have on hand on my phone. We bought most of the basics (balloons, utensils, streamers, etc.) in one stop at a local party store. I knew that we would need to include the characters from the book on a few things, too. 

For our plates, we ordered the personalized plates from Birthday Express. Justin scanned in the images we wanted, adjusted them to size, and hit order. I was even able to include a short description on the plates of each mischievian we used.

We printed images of a few of our favorite mischievians for our picture frames in the living room. 

Justin and I purchased milk bottles to use as cups for our party. We loved the style as well as the option this provided in using them for future birthday parties for our babies. To have them match our theme a little better though, we had stickers made up at StickerYou. 

I learned my lesson when it came to planning the menu from last year. Rather than making every dish that could possibly match our theme, I decided on just a few good dishes this time. Of course, I am big on not wanting our company to go hungry (big no-no as a hostess, I believe), so I made plenty for second helpings. Without a large menu, this was a much less stressful job this year. 

First on the menu was a delicious fruit salad I had found on Pinterest. I will use just about any excuse to have lots of fruit in our house, but truly, y'all, this salad has something for everyone and it is so bright and happy.

I made up some sugar cookies to look like mischievians (or I should probably say mischievian-ish). I found an easy sugar cookie recipe on Pinterest. I was going to make the icing myself, but I ended up buying the frosting in the store. The three colors were just so vibrant and perfect for what I was looking for, I couldn't pass on it. I did allow the cookies to sit out for awhile after icing them since it was cake frosting I had used. Stacking them carefully and placing them in the fridge worked out great though. Much to my relief, the cookies did not stick together. 

To fight some of that sugar rush we would all undoubtedly be battling, I made up sausage balls. Sticking to the theme or not, sausage balls are just plain good. Reagan loves them, so it made sense to serve them up at his party. 

I decided a bit at the last minute to purchase some vintage candy. Thanks to Justin, I learned of a great little candy store right around the corner from our house that offers candy and snacks in bulk. It was so much fun! I could have bought a ton. Realizing we would mostly be entertaining adults, I decided to behave myself. It was hard though. 

The cake was tricky. I went back and forth for most of this year on whether or not to make Reagan's cake myself. Should I try my hand at fondant? Should I attempt lots of cake pops (which have been harder than I ever imagined so far)? Should I have the cake made? Could I possibly make the cake in my head simply using frosting even with my lack of experience? Eventually, I decided we should buy the cake this year. So far, planning for Reagan's party this year had been fun and not nearly as stressful as last year. I knew I would throw that away the night before the party in a fit of tears while staring down at a mess of a cake. One weekend while we were out, Justin took us by the bakery that had made the cakepops for our wedding. I was so excited walking in and thinking they would be making our baby's cake. Well, after showing him a picture of the book and picking the cake size, the gentleman behind the counter asked for the party date. That did it. They were booked and there was no way I was changing Reagan's party date for anything. All the other bakeries were closed, so I was back at square one for the next few days. The more I thought about, the more I hated how much we were going to spend on this cake. I remembered the cutest ice cream cake I had found on Dairy Queen's website a few months back, and quickly began searching "The Mischievians" book for a character that favored the cake. Low and behold, I found them!!!! I ordered the cake as fast as possible, and I could not have been happier with how it turned out. The cake decorator got a little creative and had changed her frosting tip. The actual cake we got looked even better than online. It tasted delicious, too. While it was only supposed to feed up to 8 people, ours actually fed 11 with plenty of leftover. (Also, just a tip, the price online can differ by location. Our cake showed as $30 online, but ended up being around $20!!!)  

We didn't want our friends and family to leave without a thank you. Our treat bags were fitting with the theme. I bought natural toned paper bags from Michaels, and added Mischievians stickers we had had made to the front. Inside, we filled the bags with items to help survive the little mischievians in our lives. There were candles for The Stinky, and hand sanitizer for The Sticky. We typed up each item and their matching mischievian. I made up the design on Canva, while Justin printed them up on cardstock for me. Thankfully, everyone seemed to enjoy the goodies and got a good laugh. 

The only non-blurry picture we had. You officially know we watch tv. :)

For all of the planning and prepping, there is simply no way I could have hoped Reagan's party could have gone any better than it did. Our sweet boy was loved on so very much. Justin and I could not be happier with how excited Reagan was with the whole thing. He is quite the little host, let me tell you. He blew out his candle in one try, and he dove into his presents. I even managed to regain control of our extremely excited child for just long enough to get him to say thank you this year. (He was far too quiet last year to work with me on that one.) Our friends stayed to visit afterwards, and my family stayed for the "after party" to piece together his new toys and play until we were all exhausted. It was truly a blast. Seeing the difference between Reagan last year at his party and this year was really exciting. Our sweet boy has grown so much over the last year, and we are so proud of the precious boy we have been given. 

Our 2nd Baby

I don't know how to do this. At first, I told Justin I couldn't say anything. I didn't want anyone else to know. We had told so few people as it was. To share our sad news for a cause, for some sort of awareness seemed too painful, too detached. I don't want to encourage awareness. From that first chapter in our "What to Expect" books, to that first article we read concerning our new pregnancy, we see it. We are all aware it could happen to us- with or without explanation. We just hope and pray it never will. So, no, I am not sharing this to make anyone aware of statistics because in all honesty that helps no one. Numbers have nothing to do with this.  I also do not feel shamed- not by those who have never experienced this, and certainly not by those who have. I am in pain. I am grieving a child I had, and yet did not meet. I am grieving a life I was responsible for, I was allowed to carry, but not capable of saving and never allowed to hold. My body physically aches. Being exhausted one week ago was a symptom I celebrated, as it was one of the few symptoms I had with this little one. I was growing a life that I have always loved and always prayed for. Now I am exhausted because of the pain, and because of the grief.  I keep trying to rush this. I want to skip this part of my life with almost every fiber of my being; skip to the part where I have accepted and can simply speak with love. Instead, I am angry. I am angry that I am not carefree and happy with my life, and the beautiful mess that fills it at times. I am angry that I can't go back and stop this. I am angry at the empty place inside. I am angry at the pain, and I am angry at the process. I am angry at how helpless I feel; how helpless I was when it started to happen. Every few minutes there is another reminder of where my baby was, of where they are still supposed to be. I want the pain to stop. I want the physical reminder to go away, and yet I am holding onto it all. It is all I have left. It is the only thing making what has happened real to me. It is the only part explaining to my brain why my heart is breaking. I can laugh at Reagan as he plays, or tease with my husband for a moment, but the grief is still there. The physical pain, as hard as it is, is helping even as it is hurting.  I can't breathe from the tears threatening me at any minute. As I fight to still be Mommy to the precious boy in front of me, I struggle knowing he has a sister or brother that he won't see in April. I struggle knowing that I know more about them than he does. I struggle knowing he has no idea who he has just lost, but I do. A brother and sister are a gift- an irreplaceable gift. My sweet boy just lost a friend, a confidant, a sparring partner to keep him in check. I keep talking to Justin aloud, like as if I can say it enough or replay it a certain number of times, I will accept it. As if the secret to remembering how to live, how to be happy, how to accept where our baby is now will be in the facts. I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to be Mommy to this baby. I don't know how to reach them. I know that isn't my job with them. I know that they don't need me where they are, but my heart doesn't know how to accept it.  I can not shake the feeling of being undone, incomplete, unfinished. My body knows how to grow a baby. My body knows how not to attack my baby, how to fuel my baby. Why didn't it finish its task? Why did it stop? While I've never expected my body to ask my permission before, I will not lie that, yes, I expected to be asked now. I would never have said okay. I would never have said to stop. I would never have said we were done. I am angry that it could start such precious work and then stop. While my body moves on, I feel trapped to watch, to assist, to accept what I don't want to. I want no part in this and yet I have nowhere to go. It's done. It's happened. What happens next is all I can decide, but I can't help feeling I am not done here. My body is repairing and healing itself, but where is my baby? This isn't how it is supposed to work. So while I know I am done, and there is nothing I have left to do, I still haven't gotten there yet.  Verses and quotes and cliches do not help me right now. Justin and I had some concern Saturday, but having not seen the doctor yet and not feeling a need to go to the er, I took my mother's advice and laid with my feet up all weekend. Justin handled it all- even seeing to all of the little surprises we had planned for our sweet boy's birthday Sunday. In spite of the red flags that had been raised Saturday, Sunday was different. We had actually started to believe everything was fine. All signs of concern were gone. Then, at 7:00 Sunday night, they came back. Things got worse. Justin was adamant that we would go to the doctor the next morning, and even offered to try calling the office for me if he was the first one up. We secretly continued to research statistics in the hopes we were just overreacting, but inside I knew. By the time we went to bed that night, I was in a great deal of pain. I knew that that would be the night. I no longer wondered if, or maybe. I knew. Justin and I kissed goodnight. I struggled to fall asleep, and debated moving the pillows beneath my feet. It seemed my last hope to have them there. I grew angry in the silence. If this happened, I thought, I wouldn't do this again. I would wait. I would wait a year like Justin and I had originally said. I couldn't do this again. There was nothing good in this. I laid there talking to God. I know it is foolish- beyond foolish- to be mad at Him, but I was. I was hurt. I knew He would turn our lives around, He would use this for His purpose for us. I knew He loves me, and that He would never want me to hurt. I knew He is a merciful Father and that He does not take life lightly. I knew if I lost our baby, they would be safely with Him. I knew I would see them again, and I knew God would not leave me. But all of that said, in that moment, I was fighting and begging and even threatening (not to listen, not to try again soon) in the foolish hope that He wouldn't let it happen. I knew I was being disobedient. I knew I was wrong. I knew I would listen again. We would try again. Next time He told me to leap, I would. I wanted to think I could help, I could stop this from happening though. Again and again, I heard my Father's voice though. Like a fighting whisper to every argument I had, He reminded me-  "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." - Jeremiah 29:11 I fought. I said no. I argued that I knew that, but this hurt. This would hurt me. I grew frantic, being fully aware of each passing minute and what I grew closer to. Again, He reminded me of another verse- one of my favorites.  "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, with prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard you hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." It is easy to learn a verse, to read it, to like it, to find comfort in it on any given day. It is also amazing and humbling how when you are pleading and pulling so close to Him, how He will use the verses you once framed on an index card to speak to you. I wasn't remembering word for word. I typed word for word to validate the truth. The reality of it was that He was simply talking to me. In all of my fighting and all of my pleading, He met me with a loving calm. I wanted to fight, to think I could win, but He knew already. He knew what I felt, even though I was trying to convince myself He couldn't. Somehow this time, He must not have known. *Typing this now, I find some comfort. Where He could have, and by our standards should have, met me with anger, He met me with arms open. He loved me to the point not to remind me of my size or helplessness, but of His love and His power.*  Finally, the pain was too bad. I realized no matter what I did, if it was going to happen, there was nothing I could do. There was nothing I could do. I curled up on my side, and closed my eyes. I didn't go to sleep though. I stopped fighting and I prayed. I said my goodbyes and I made my requests. I asked one last time if we didn't have to do this, then to please not let it happen. I prayed until there was no more to say. As hard as that night was, I see now how God took over for me. He didn't ask me to do anything more than was necessary. He didn't ask me to decide, to think, or to feel anything more.  By the time I got up from that sleepless night, I just wanted an answer. I knew, but I needed to KNOW. I needed to know if I should grieve or was there still hope. Had I just endured a hard night, and perhaps overreacted? In spite of our immediate efforts to see the doctor that day, her office and her nurses were so busy that we didn't hear back from anyone until nearly 5:00. I couldn't spend the day dreading and worrying- neither of us could, so we did the only thing we could think of. We both found articles online about what we were going through, and we saw what we already knew. Our worst fear could have happened, but there was actually just as much chance that everything was fine with our baby. It seemed foolish to grieve when we didn't know for certain. I pushed the night before behind me, and prayed that if I had been wrong in suspecting the worse that God forgive me. When I finally got in touch with the nurse, I was so excited that I didn't care at first how she offered no advice and no encouragement. I was simply happy to hear her offer me an appointment for first thing the next morning. It wasn't until I hung up the phone and looked at Justin that I realized how scared I really was. Hearing back had been the "job" that day, the task keeping us from thinking too much on what likely had happened. Having finally gotten the appointment, Justin and I just looked at each other with these mutual smiles. Neither of us admitted right then what we already knew. We were still trying to hope.  My doctor is truly a gift. I cannot imagine that anyone else could have confirmed the news for us with such empathy, as well as provided us with such hope in the end. Justin stood beside me as I looked up at the ultrasound screen. I had already seen her face; noted what she had halfway said, but then stopped herself from saying as she continued to look. Still, I searched that fuzzy screen for that little circle I remembered. It was the only thing that I could notice on my own. It was all I knew to look for. There was one, and for one brief second I was hopeful. She must have known what I was thinking; caught a look on my face, because she immediately pointed it out and explained it was the empty sack of where our baby had been. It is strange how emotions can join together in the same instance. On the one hand, there was relief that I hadn't misread my pregnancy tests or imagined any of it (because, yes, this had crossed my mind). On the other hand, there was comfort in seeing something, somewhere, my baby had been. My baby had been right there, inside of me. Then there was the sadness because my baby wasn't there. It was empty. I was empty. The nurse left immediately after the ultrasound- a fact I only know because I remember seeing her as I laid down, but never did I see her in the conversation that followed. My eyes were glued to our doctor as she spoke to us. I almost felt bad for making her give us the news that, at this point, I could acknowledge I had already known. At first she tried to give me the statistics, assuring me that this was common, but I know the look on my face must have told her I hated that stupid statistic for ever putting fear into my pregnancies in the first place. She quickly acknowledged it doesn't change how personal this felt to me. She left no room for questions. Anything I could have thought to ask by now or in the days to follow, she answered over the next several minutes. Honestly, I still don't know how she did it, but she somehow managed to give us hope going forward. She made it okay to grieve. She made it okay to try again- later or as soon as possible. She made it okay to come back to her office, to be happy again, to try again, to be hopeful. She made it okay to know this baby, and to know the one to follow. She even made it okay to find comfort and joy as often as possible in the precious boy that stood in the room with us. This is the second time that I have thanked God for putting this doctor into our lives. As I said at the beginning of this, I don't know how to do this. I have caught myself smiling at our precious boy one second and crying the next. Sometimes the pain is what starts it. Sometimes it is just too strong a thought. I don't need to hear the world's responses to judge my grief. I know that I was just 5 weeks. I know that we had only known this baby for 1 week. I know that we never saw them or heard their heartbeat, and I know for some people that should somehow make this easier. I know that some women know and feel so much more than I did. I know. I also know our story- Justin, myself, Reagan, and this baby.  *For 1 week, I slept in in the mornings and attempted naps (usually only within the last 10 minutes of Reagan's naps) because I was so tired from this pregnancy. *I hated sweet food in that time. In fact, most food left me feeling icky- not nauseated, but icky. The only thing sweet that I could eat without feeling sick were the leftover fruit chew candies from Reagan's birthday party. I joked with Justin that I thought it might be a girl because the baby seemed to be teasing me more than Reagan ever had. I would literally take the longest time picking out food because nothing sounded good. It was almost as if I would catch myself  thinking "What about goldfish crackers?". When I was pregnant with Reagan thoughts like that were immediately met with a yay or nay, but with this baby I always felt like the response was more "Sure, Mommy, go ahead. Try it out and I'll tell you what I think.". Again, nearly everything left me feeling not so great and I would be on the hunt for something to fix it. For all that was up in the air when it came to meals, I could not get enough meat though, or those pretzel goldfish. Justin teased me about how many breakfast sausages I had gone through in just a few days. I was so excited to find some Quaker Oats cranberry and almond oatmeal last Thursday when we went grocery shopping. It had sounded so good that I had had to make some the minute we got home. It was so bland, but perfect for the baby and me. Oh, and peaches! Peaches and bananas were also on the good list. I had been so happy, so relieved, to make up some of my new oatmeal and dive into our breakfast sausages Friday morning and it immediately ease my icky feeling stomach. I felt like I had made a break through- like this baby and I had come to some small understanding.  *We had told Reagan about the baby, and it was not uncommon for him to bring up the baby at random all on his own. He typically mentioned what toys of his the baby could play with (which was just about everything he owned, even his most prized toys).  *I had already made up a list of what we needed to move around in order to make room for this baby, and Justin had even helped me make up a list of baby items we actually wanted to update or purchase for life with this baby.  *We had already started conversations and daydreams about what our two babies would look like together, how they would play together, how they would greet Justin at the door each day together.  *We took 5 pregnancy tests with this baby. The 1st, I took one week before I was even late. It was negative, and while I took the news well, I couldn't quite shake the feeling it was wrong. The 2nd, I took on the night of what should have been when I started. It was the faintest line, but it was there all the same. I was so mad at the thought of not celebrating all of our babies to the fullest the second we knew, that I took Reagan out the next morning and purchased a digital test just so it could be confirmed under no uncertain terms. It came back negative, which I read is normal if your HCG levels aren't high enough to be detected yet. Apparently the digital tests require higher levels, so I didn't let it bother me and stuck to my gut. Tuesday I took a 3rd test, this time the line was darker. I was pregnant. I actually went out to tell my family- who already seemed to have had suspicions of their own. Thursday, I took my final pregnancy test. It was truly just so no one could question in the least if we were. It was the last digital test I had, and I knew if it was positive then my hormone levels were going up. It came back positive.  *I had no dreams or feelings (other than with the food situation) to tell me if we were having a boy or a girl. Since Sunday night though, I cannot shake the feeling that our baby was a girl. We only had one month together, and only one week of celebrating it. Reagan hasn't mentioned the baby since it happened (which I am counting as a blessing at the moment). Reagan only knows that Mommy is hurting. He doesn't know anything else. He has no idea how much he is helping his mommy and daddy just by going about his business as he does. Still, Justin and I are struggling. Justin is trying to look forward, trying to remind me on occasion of what we hope to follow. At the same time, he is grieving with me. He loved our baby, too. He had already found a place for them in his life and in his heart. This hasn't been easy on either of us. He has been careful around me, trying to make it as easy as possible. Tuesday, when we came home from the doctor's office, he made us up a lunch of sausage and eggs, knowing breakfast foods are my favorite and hoping it would help. He isn't pushing me to get over this or to rush through it. We are just talking about it, even if a minute before we were discussing what Reagan did today or what we are having for dinner. We don't know how to do this or what will help us. We don't know when this will be as okay as it will ever be, so we aren't making rules. We are just being honest with each other, even as raw as all of this is.  We know no one knows what to say. We would never have known what to say until this week. We know it is hard for people to understand this. We know some people mean well, but they don't get it. We understand. We will never forget this process and what we are feeling now.  My family said it best just by saying they were so sorry and then giving us space. I have regretted telling them about the baby only because I know that this means they are hurting, too. At the same time, I am grateful they knew. I am grateful that our baby was celebrated and loved by the people who would have loved them most, even if only for a few days. I am grateful that my family appreciates life no matter at what stage it is in during creation, and that they recognize how unique and how precious our baby is to us. My family has also been here before. My parents know how this feels, and they know nothing can be said or done to fix what we are feeling. Surprisingly, one other person we know simply told Justin that there was nothing that could be said. That acknowledgement in itself was relief to the pain we are feeling. What we are feeling can't be cured with gifts or actions. It can't be healed with a band-aid. There is nothing that can take the place of who we have just lost. Even being told something as simple as "Well, y'all still have a lot to be grateful for." brought pain unintentionally. It literally sent me into a spiraling conversation with Justin as I pointed out the truth of the matter. This baby wasn't the result of greed. They weren't an addition to the bookshelves, or that collectible peace we found on sale, but had to back out of because of circumstance. This baby was another person we were thankful for. We were grateful for them- the promise they were adding to our lives, the future we would have with them, all of the love we would have to give them. This baby was specifically chosen and created to be a part of our family- even for a short time. This baby was not a replacement or an upgrade from Reagan, and for as much as our sweet boy is helping us to find joy even in all of this, he is not a replacement for his brother or sister. We are having to learn to be grateful for someone we loved but cannot meet in this lifetime, and we don't know how to do that overnight. We just don't know. Yes, as I said in the beginning, I am still feeling angry. I am not angry at God, but I am angry at the circumstances. I am angry I am in this position and that I know this loss. Justin asked if it would have helped me had I not known, but truthfully I am grateful.  I wouldn't want any of our babies to come and go without me knowing. I am trying to take comfort in what I do know, but I know it is going to take time. Another mother who had been in the same situation pointed out in her blog post a truth that I had forgotten in all of this. We do not suffer alone. God tells us He hurts when we hurt. He knows my pain and is with me in this. Knowing not only my baby is safe with our Father, but knowing He still feels my pain for who I have lost actually does make this just a little bit easier.  At the beginning, I wasn't going to say anything. I was just going to keep this between us. This is personal. I know there will be another baby. I know that Reagan is not our last. I know that this baby, somehow, has helped us make room in our family for their younger brother or sister. They have helped our family in a way no one else could have. God didn't use their precious life for just one week. He has made certain their purpose will always be with our family. I share about our life with Reagan almost on a daily basis because he is ours, and he is loved, and we are blessed to know him and to have him in our lives. To not share about this baby, felt like we would be ignoring they were here for a time. Even as this gets easier, and I am praying it will get easier, we won't ever forget this baby. This baby was ours, and we will always love them.