Charlie is here!

 

I know that months ago, I said goodbye to this blog.  It wasn't until July that I started to regret that decision. Little did I know, I would need writing as an outlet more than ever. But I argued with myself about writing again, knowing that I had already written a lengthy farewell and I had closed that chapter in my life, so to speak. So I left my blog alone, until now.  There is, of course, a big reason why I am updating this blog some 9 months after my last post.


Charlotte is here!

But not without a fight. (Note: you can totally skip all the drama if you want and just read this summary (and skip this summary if you don't want spoilers): incompetent cervix, 3 months of bedrest, multiple close calls to the hospital, delivery at 35 and 5, 12 days in the NICU, home now and doing great!).

At 22 weeks and 4 days, the same gestational age Conner and Ben were when they were born and passed away, I went in for a routine ultrasound. I had been getting them weekly to check on my cervix. Although technically unnecessary since I had no cervical issues with Jordan, my doctors were taking every precaution that they could. And thank God that they did, because my ultrasound tech looked at me with worry that day and asked me if I remembered what my length had been the week before. She had seen me through two previous pregnancies, and I could tell she was trying to break bad news to me. I said about 3.7 cm. She replied with, "it's a little shorter this week..." Of course, I asked her how much shorter.

1.9 cm.

And off to triage I went, crying the whole way there.

After much deliberation between my ob, mfm, my husband and I, we decided to take no action. Two  to four centimeters is considered the standard for a normal cervix, and I was just below that. Not only that, but I have had my cervix shorten before only to have it bounce right back up the week after. At 22 and a half weeks, getting a cervical cerclage was extremely risky - the surgery itself could throw my into labor or worse, break my water bag. Was it worth the risk? Multiple doctors said at this point, no. But they did warn us that it was now or never on the cervical cerclage. I had to make a decision now. Some doctors don't do it past 20 weeks, most won't go near it past 22. We went home to sleep on it, came back the next day to get remeasured, found that my cervix was holding steady, and went back home with the instructions to come back to the hospital the next week to get remeasured.

I walked into the hospital at 23 weeks and 4 days, drinking a Starbucks, expecting good news. I hopped on the table, and I instantly saw the worst news I could get: funneling.

I asked the MFM ultrasound tech, a complete stranger to me, to tell me what I already knew. How much cervix did I have left? She replied with, "That's what I'm trying to figure out...right now, I see no measurable cervix."

So that was the end game. Just shy of viability, I had no cervix and saw deep funneling. I instantly threw my hands to my head and cried. How would I tell Tim? What would I say to Jordan? How was I going to survive another loss?

The ultrasound tech called in an MFM, one I had never met before and one that I hope I never see again. He asked a sobbing me what was going on, as if the ultrasound tech hadn't already filled him in. I looked at him like he was stupid and cruel for making me repeat this story, but I somehow found the words through my crying. He repeated the ultrasound and found that every time the baby kicked, the funneling got worse and my cervix shortened to just about nothing. But when she wasn't moving, my cervix was at about 1.3 cm.I had what they call a "dynamic cervix." Much better news than no cervix at all. But then he told me that at 23 and a half weeks, there were no more preventative measures we could take to save this baby. I called Tim, sobbing, and after taking a deep breath I asked him to come to the hospital. He had planned his work day that day to be working right by the hospital, so thankfully he was there within a matter of minutes. The MFM sent me to triage. I asked if I had to walk there, and he gave me a look. Yes, I did. Um, no, I had no cervix left - I requested a wheelchair.

They basically gave my baby a death sentence. They said they were going to call in a neonatologist and discuss our options with us - basically, did we want to take heroic measures and save a baby that has not reached 24 weeks yet? At that, I requested to use the bathroom and cried my eyes out in private. When I walked back into the triage room, all the doctors were gone. A knock came at my door and another MFM walked in.  I had met Dr. Kay after I had the boys, and again when I was pregnant with Jordan. She sat down, discussed what was happening with my cervix, and then, right when I was spacing out, nonchalantly said, "I won't say no to doing one if you want one."

Wait, want what? I mean, three doctors at this point (all of whom were in her practice) had told us we had no options. Turns out, she meant a rescue cerclage. Tim and I jumped at it, even though we knew the risks were high. It looked like Charlotte would be arriving soon without a cerclage, and even if the cerclage caused a ruptured water bag or threw me into labor, it wouldn't change the outcome of what was already happening on this course. I couldn't believe it. We were given another chance to make the right decision - the decision we should have made the week before. I could have hugged her right then. She scheduled it for the next day, in order to give the baby rescue betamethasone shots for her lungs and to give me a round of antibiotics to fight infection (which, as you all know, I was already at high risk for).

The next day, in the OR, after hours of my surgery being pushed back (apparently I wasn't considered as an emergency - not sure if that was good or bad), a stitch was put into place to help keep my cervix shut. It was low and weak, since it was not placed in a preventative measure (rather, it was an emergent measure) and the MFM was trying not to nick my water bag or bladder. But it was something. Everyone assumed I was knocked out during surgery but I was awake - wide awake. During the surgery, I heard Dr. Kay say "piece of cake."

Afterwards, she told me that she had seen a tear in my cervix at 12 o'clock. We don't know what it is from - from delivering Conner and Ben, or from nearly delivering Jordan before my emergency c-section. We will never know. But it is most likely what was causing my cervical issues with Charlotte. The resident who helped with the surgery told my husband that it was a tough surgery, but Dr. Kay made it look easy. This was after multiple doctors said that it the surgery could not be done with my issues and with how far along we were already. The gratitude we owe to Dr. Kay cannot be expressed into words.

One day after coming home from the hospital, I was readmitted in the middle of the night with contractions. We were 24 weeks and 1 day. They placed me on the horrible mag drip, kept me overnight for observations, and sent me back home terrified. Everyone thought I would be having this baby any minute.

But then a week went by. And another week. And another. And soon we were at 28 weeks, receiving another round of betamethasone shots "just in case." But every week that went by, my cervix gained length and the funneling receded. The weak, low cerclage was actually giving me just enough support that my cervix was acting like it should - holding my baby in.

I won't lie, bed rest was horrible. Many people told me that bed rest sounded great - lie in bed all day, have people waiting on me, not have to work, etc. But here was the reality of it:

• I missed my daughter. Jordan was sent to my MIL's house almost every day, or someone else was watching her in our house. I couldn't run after her, I had to pull out of our mommy and me class, Tim took her to Gymboree instead of me, and even holding her was a challenge. Jordan missed me, too. I can't tell you how it broke my heart every morning when Tim scooped her up from her crib, still half asleep, and her wailing and reaching out to me because she didn't want to leave. I don't think she remembers any of this anymore, but I'll never forget the pain that I felt missing all these memories and moments with her. I can't even continue writing about this, because it hurts too much.
• My marriage was strained. I am a control freak, and having someone else take over my responsibilities was just too much for me. At the same time, Tim could not handle working two jobs, taking care of Jordan, the house, the bills, and me. We were at each other's throats, at least the first few weeks. 
• There is not enough good tv out there to keep you occupied on bed rest. However - GAME OF THRONES IS AMAZING. 
• Ever wonder what would happen to your body if you were eating because you were bored AND you weren't getting up to do anything except pee, occasionally shower, and make some food? Swelling, massive weight gain, and muscle loss. I don't know if my body will ever look the same again. 
• I think I lost about half of my adult vocabulary simply because I never got to see anyone unless they came to the house. 
• I was actually supposed to start a new job the day that I got the news that my cervix was shortening. Obviously, I could not work on bed rest, so money was/is super tight. Not a great thing when you are preparing to bring another baby home. 
• My house, that I cleaned every day, was a disaster. If you know me, you know that my anxiety was through the roof over the messy house. 
• Wondering if my baby was literally going to come out of me every time I took a step was destroying me. I was on edge every second until I reached 34 weeks (when I finally convinced myself I could take a breath and relax). 

Still, every second was worth it. I was able to have more freedom as the weeks went by - got my hair done at 28 weeks, was able to go out for dinner at 34 weeks for our 5th wedding anniversary, got to go to the pumpkin patch, etc. I just made sure that for the majority of the day, I was off my feet. I even started to keep Jordan at home with me, making sure to do simple things like read to her, watch some Mickey Mouse Club House, and of course nap when she napped :)

At exactly 35 weeks, I found myself back in the hospital. I had a routine OB appointment that day. For a few days prior, I had been feeling Braxton Hicks contractions and my doctor thought that he should check my cervix.  He was quiet for just a second too long, and I knew he was going to tell me something big - and he did. I was 2-3 centimeters dilated. But we both agreed that at 35 weeks, we were okay with this. Also, this could be the natural progression of things - it was not uncommon for women to start dilating when they are this far along. However, with the cerclage in, there was talk of the stitches ripping my cervix. So, I had to go to the hospital to get checked out and possibly deliver that day.

When we got to the hospital, they picked up some contractions but not cervical changes. They were able to get the contractions to stop, kept me overnight, and sent me back home the next day. I have to admit that I was a little bummed out, because we (me, my husband, my doctor, etc.) we so sure we were meeting Charlie that day. Especially after my OB told me he had a feeling that my cerclage would not hold. I even called Tim from the doctor's office and asked him if he was ready to have a baby today. I met him at my mother in law's house, where Jordan was, said my goodbye to Jordan, tried not to cry as I thought these were my last moments with just her, and we were on our way. Then it turned out that I was going to be pregnant just a little while longer. Five days, to be exact.

At 35 weeks and 4 days, I went to bed with a couple of sharp pains - nothing at all that felt like contractions. But after a few minutes, they stopped, I went to bed, and thought nothing of it. Ligament pains, I thought. Whatever. But when I woke up the next morning, there they were again. I still powered through it, took Jordan to Gymboree (where I felt absolutely nothing), and then got in my car to take her home. At this point, I noticed the baby had not been moving much, if at all, that day.  I couldn't help but make the call to the doctor, just in case. As I was waiting for him to call me back (he was in surgery), I called Tim, who agreed that I would probably be sent to the hospital, and he met me at his mom's house where we would be dropping Jordan off. It was there that I really started to get contractions - and I knew they were contractions. After calling the after hours nurse again (the office didn't open until 1 pm that day, so technically "after hours"), the doctor called me back and told me that what I was describing were contractions. But since last time had been a false alarm, I went to the hospital thinking this was nothing, again.

Wrong. I was met in triage by the MFM resident who was there for my cerclage surgery. She was so happy to see I was still pregnant, and after checking me she informed me that I was 5 cm dilated and that we could not wait - she had to take the cerclage out now to avoid tearing my cervix. Originally, we were waiting to be in the OR for a c-section to remove the cerclage so I would have anesthesia for it, but even as they were prepping the OR right then and there, they couldn't wait. So out the cerclage came, which wasn't so bad - took about a few seconds to actually get it out, and besides the speculum, I didn't feel a thing. I texted everyone to tell them that today was the baby's birthday, and before I knew it, my OB had met with me and I was wheeled off to the OR.

I had quite the anxiety attack in the OR. In triage, they had missed the IV three times and my arms were a mess. Then, the IV they finally placed a few minutes prior to me getting to the OR stopped working. They placed one high up in my left arm, which hurt like hell. I was worried about the epidural (ouch), it was freezing cold in the OR, my husband wasn't in there yet, and my baby was coming early. I was in tears. The c-section itself was kind of a blur. Charlie was out, crying right away (much to my relief). I asked if she was okay, and as soon as my OB said she looked good, I asked if she had a lot of hair. Ha. She did! As they started to close me up, I felt sharp pains (which the nurse told me was from my uterus being outside of my body. Didn't need to know that). They gave me IV meds to calm me down, but I was still in a panic. They finally brought Charlie over to me. I only got to see her, not hold her, for a few seconds before she was taken to the NICU. I didn't even get a good look at her - I was pinned to the table this time, with my arms bound, and I was in pain (thanks, sucky epidural). Tim kept asking if I could see her and I kept saying no. But they couldn't wait any longer, and off she went - but not without a kiss from me.

They told me that she looked great - was eating on her own, breathing on her own, regulating her temperature on her own. She was also my biggest baby, at 5 pounds, 13 ounces. Her neonatologist said she would probably be discharged from the NICU and rooming in with me the next day. But then they noticed her blood sugar levels were low, and they kept her a few extra days to monitor that. Thank God, because during those few days we realized she was going into bradycardia when she was eating. The first time she had one, I was holding her and burping her. I didn't realize what was happening - she was coughing, so I kept trying to burp her. But then her face turned blue. The nurse ran over, took her and gave her a couple pats on the back and her heart rate went back up. This happened a couple times a day over the course of her 12 day stay in the NICU. She was almost discharged 4 or 5 times, but every time they went to discharge her, she would have another brady. I can't tell you what it is like as a mother to watch your baby's heart rate go from 130 to 70 (or even 50) in a matter of a second and see her face turn blue. Luckily, Charlie almost always self corrected herself without needing stimulation from other people - and it almost always happened when she was eating, so we knew when to be extra careful. The whole suck-breathe-swallow reflex was just too much for her preemie brain at the time. And, as the nurses said - she went at the breast or bottle like it was her last meal. She couldn't slow down, and she would forget to breathe while eating.

I cried buckets of tears every time we thought we could bring her home but then ended up leaving empty handed. By one week, they had tried to discharge her three times. She even had her carseat test and her newborn pictures taken in the NICU, which is something reserved for babies about to go home. Nurses packed her bags to go home. We even filled out the discharge paperwork once, only for a team of neonatologists to put her on a 5-day brady watch instead. We spent about 7 hours a day in the NICU, trying to split our time between her and Jordan. I felt like the worst mother in the world, because I felt like I could not be a mother to them both at the same time. It broke my heart that Jordan had not met Charlie yet. I came home one day and could still smell her baby lotion on me. I cried in our garage, by myself, thinking of my baby all alone in her hospital bed.

We finally got to bring her home on October 23rd, after 12 days in the NICU. She is a laid-back, happy baby who wants to be held all the time and has stolen the hearts of all of us, including her sister. Jordan won't stop saying "baby! baby!" and shoves Charlie's pacifier in Charlie's mouth every chance she gets... and also runs away with it. Charlie has been smothered by sister kisses since day 1 of being home.

And now, what you've really been waiting for - photo dump!

NICU's cutest

Happy baby

Hungry baby

The boys always letting us know they were around

Newborn pics in NICU

Conner giraffe and Benjamin puppy

Two weeks

Daddy's girl

Taylor 110 - in honor of boys' birth date

Tim and his girls

BONUS PICS

Maternity session

Jordan stole the show!

Love Tim's tattoo for the boys here

Halloween! Baby Sully - get it???

Boo and her "Kitty"

She is the perfect BOO! Even runs around yelling BOO! All the time!

Boo and Mike

My favorite picture of her - taken days before we got the news about my cervix. We had spent the day at the zoo and playing outside - one of my best memories before I had to be put on bed rest. 

Charlie on her one month birthday, being loved on!

I also had to fit this in here - if any of you remember, I had a nurse during my hospital stay with Jordan named Cathy. You can read about her here. She was my nurse again with Charlie, and told me she still had my thank you card and would remember me and my story about my boys long after she retired. She told me I needed the picture of the boys up in my room again this time, although for some reason we couldn't find it (I did end up finding it later). We hugged and shed some tears, and I am so grateful to have seen her again. I feel like the boys sent her to me again, when I needed her.

I don't know if I will update the blog again, but I do feel like this was important to post. I hope you all are doing well :)

Flashbacks: pregnancy and Jordan

I'm watching my baby sleep.  She's wearing a blue onesie with two pink birds and pink and white striped pants. Every once in awhile, she'll let out a deep sigh that lets me know she is sleeping soundly.  And then, every once in awhile, she'll sound like a dinosaur to let me know that shes restless.

I stare at her face and she's so pretty and perfect, and I can't believe she's mine. But instead of focusing on the present, I look at her and see monitors.

I'm strapped to the monitors, listening to her heartbeat and watching the machine pump out a strip that details her heart rate, her movements, and my contractions. Three times a week. I hear the busy nurses out in the hallway, tending to patients and making phone calls. A flat screen tv is to my left and the Food Network is on. I watch it, all the while extremely aware of how many times my baby is moving. Will she pass today?

I look at my baby and I see ultrasounds. Twice a week. I hold my breath during BPPs and hope that I leave with good news.  Her growth scans cause me even more anxiety.  I know every time I go, her growth will have slowed down.  At the end, it was practically at a standstill when she should have been growing by leaps and bounds. I see her on the screen, shielding her face by throwing her arms over it. I almost like it this way, like seeing her face will be a great surprise when she is born.

I hold my baby and I think of the weekly progesterone shots that were supposed to prevent preterm labor.  Without them, would I have gone into labor earlier than 34 weeks? Would I have delivered her as a micro-preemie, like her brothers?  What would her fate have been?

Sometimes she will smile at me, or let out a laugh in her sleep. "Ha, ha, ha!," she'll say to me. And I'll smile back at her, and then remember how her heart rate slowed down while I pushed to get her out. I remember being rushed into the OR and the nurses shielding the monitors from me. I remember her crying as they lifted her up over the blue curtain so that I could see my girl. She was so tiny. I remember my first question was "Is she okay?" but my first thought was "OMG. She is so tiny."  Dr. D, who delivered her, would tell me at my postpartum appointment, "I remember she didn't like labor... well, more like the pushing..." and he stared at her in amazement.  I know what he was thinking. How is she here, full term and healthy?

I think of the fertility treatments we went through. Our loss with our boys. A struggle to get back to normalcy. Throwing myself back into fertility treatments. Our chances of success with her cycle? Twenty percent. And she is here.

Maybe someday, I will stop looking at her and thinking of the struggle, the pain, and the anxiety of trying to get her here. But that has not passed just yet.

She is still sleeping in her pink rocker, her hair standing up and her arms down at her side for once. Her cheeks are chubby and full, very unlike the day she was born. I know she will wake up soon and fuss, but the minute I pick her up she will calm down. I cannot wait for her to wake up, kiss her chubby cheeks, and tell her how much I love her.

Jordan's dramatic, terrifying, no, wonderful, birth story

Written by a sore, bruised, and exhausted mother.  Forgive my horrible story telling and multiple grammatical errors.

Well, I was promised a baby by early afternoon and my doctor delivered (pun intended). I mean, all I had to do was finish what I started. The nurses who saw me and the resident OB explained that "all doctors promise early deliveries" to make moms optimistic. No one expected me to have this baby before dinner. Mmmmhhhhmmmm. They must have not realized who my doctors were. They were always right.

I'll give you the short version of events from 9 am to 12 pm. Picotin - ouch, man. But I remained the girl oblivious to her contractions, weirdly enough until the epidural. My epidural with the boys took like 30 seconds. I didn't feel a thing. I expected similar results this time around. Nope. Nope. Oh my sweet baby Jesus was I wrong. That biotch missed the first time, sending a searing pain down my left leg. Apparently, I have a mild case of scoliosis. Once the epidural worked, my contractions came close together and I really felt them... of course. No epidural, I'm pain free. Epidural, and I'm in pain. The morning was still relatively boring.  We watched a lot of HGTV and made fun of the people who said things like "I only want to spend about 1.2 million on this house."  Screw you.

The nurse checked my progress around noon. She sent this text message to my OB: "complete and plus 3. Get here ASAP." And, no kidding, I swear my doctor made his way into the room about 5 minutes later.  I joked that he must have been down the street at Portillo's getting food. My nurse joked that she had to eat her words.  I was, in fact, having this baby by early afternoon.

Anyway, so I pushed. Labor went quickly. Baby moved quickly. And then her heart rate dropped. No big deal, it happens sometimes. She was still in a healthy range for her heart rate.

We took a break and let the picotin work a little more, since my contractions were getting milder.

Pushed some more. And her heart rate dropped some more. They think that her umbilical cord must have been getting compressed every time I pushed. I couldn't watch, and yet I couldn't look away from the monitors.  80.. 70... 50.... and then it dropped more...

My OB: "I don't like this. You've come too far...."  I knew what that meant. We have come too far to lose this baby now.  Cue the waterworks. Over to the OR we go. I think I started crying as they handed Tim blue scrubs and told him to grab the camera. They wheeled me out in a hurry, telling him that someone would take him there when they were ready for him. I think he kissed my forehead goodbye and told me not to worry. I asked the nurse how fast we could get this baby out.  Fast, she assured me. I was worried I wouldn't see my daughter alive.

Earlier, my nurse told me to stop watching her vitals (this is my baby lady, let me watch her heart rate).  She said to let them worry about it, and if something bad happened then a team of 15 people would come running into the room - and then I would have the right to worry. So when they wheeled me into the OR for the emergency c-section and I saw a team of about 15 people, my heart rate skyrocketed (enough for them to move the monitors out of the way so that I wouldn't watch them). I remember asking them if I would feel anything. My OB assured me all I would feel was pressure.  I had a new, nicer, anesthesiologist. The draped the blue sheet over me so I couldn't see, did a "test" to make sure I didn't feel pain, grabbed Tim from the hallway, and soon we were on our way to meeting our little girl. A few minutes later...

"Here comes baby!" Seriously, already?

"Its a girl! That's what they ordered!" Duh.

Then... "She has a ton of hair!" followed by me smiling and screaming, "she does?!" Just what I wanted. Then came her little whine, followed by her strong and steady cry. I bawled my eyes out when I heard her.  She was breathing. I have never head any of my children cry up until that point.

"Is she okay?"

"I think so.... she's pink!" My OB said.

She came to me, perfectly tiny, a miniature version of me and a big bundle of love. She was crying and clearly annoyed by the team of people who pulled her from her home. But then I said hi to her, and she instantly calmed down. She knew my voice. She knew me. They laid her on my chest and she practically army crawled to my breast and started nursing (and I have the pictures to prove it!). Later,  a nurse would tell me that my milk coming in early was a gift from my boys; milk arrives earlier in second and subsequent pregnancies.

We named her Jordan Breanne the minute we saw her.  I still wasn't sure about her name, but this had the most meaning to us.  Tim and I picked out three baby names years and years ago, when we first started dating: Conner, Parker, and Jordan.  Jordan was our name for a girl.  We both said we wanted a unisex name for a girl, and we both said "I like Jordan" at the same time.  So we have had this name on reserve for quite awhile. Breanne has even more meaning to us - it is made up of letters from Benjamin and Conner's names.  She was almost Jordan Cameron, but I couldn't give her two unisex names.  That would be cruel - no one would be able to look at her name and tell whether or not she was a girl or a boy. She was almost Charlotte Jordan - but the popularity of Charlotte made me back away from it.

My OB joked that he was getting a workout stitching me back up - my abdominal muscles were tight and I was in good shape. Great, I thought - because I'm planning on taking my baby to the Caribbean in about 7 months! Apparently, in my heart, I knew she was okay.

After skin to skin, they took her to the nursery with Tim close behind. I'm not even sure if we said goodbye to each other - we were too wrapped up in the fact that there was a team of people around our baby and she was being put into an isolette. I didn't see my baby girl for three hours after that.

February is a slow month for babies and births, we were explained. Except this year the nursery exploded and there were not enough rooms for the mothers. I kinda wonder what happened 9 months ago that everyone was having babies all of a sudden. So I lingered around in post-op until my nurse, after multiple phone calls, yelling at people that they couldn't separate mother and baby, etc., they finally got me a room. But then they didn't clean the room and we had to wait more.  I cried by myself in my hospital bed, waiting for my baby or for any news on her progress. Well, that's after they gave me some drugs to control the violent shaking I was experiencing as a side effect of I totally forgot what drug. Tim finally came to see me, big smile on his face and a camera loaded with pictures.  I missed her first bath.  I missed her being put into a regular bassinet.  I missed her grabbing her daddy's hand, her footprints being placed into her two Bibles, and three hours of her life. He told me she weight 5 pounds, 3 ounces.  I couldn't believe it.  I had so badly wanted her to be at least 5 pounds, and here she was - a tiny bundle, but she had surpassed our expectations. She only needed one supplement in the nursery to help her gain weight, and then they gave us the all clear to solely breastfeed (my heart did a little happy dance at this news). My nurse pulled us a solid and they brought me my Jordan Breanne in post-op until we could be wheeled into our room together.

I can't describe the relief I felt to hold my baby again. She gave us quite a scare, that little one.  My other OB checked on me the next day and he told me that he wasn't surprised - she gave us so many scares, it only made sense to give us one more. I know that I will be scared everyday for the rest of my life for her, and I will do everything I can to protect her.

We spent the next few days in the hospital, snuggling up with our baby girl and memorizing the traits of her face, her hands, her (giant) feet. She is a good baby - she doesn't cry much and is soothed easily (usually). It took miles and mountains to get to where we are now, but we have our baby girl, safe and sound. Our church had a round of applause the day we brought her home. Thank you, God. Thank you, Conner. Thank you, Benjamin.

Happy birthday, blog! And Baby C's induction date!

via Google

Today, sitting at my doctor's office strapped to the monitors, I was thinking that my blog has been around about a year.  I checked my blog, and it has been EXACTLY one year since I started writing.

In the past year, this blog has had 50,743 page views (and that's even with months of this blog being private!). Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone following my journey.  You remember my boys with me, and that gives my heart great joy.  I started writing so that I would never forget the time I had with my sons and all the ways we tried to do good in their names. While writing, I have been blessed to reach out to other baby loss mothers.  People have commented on my blog and I have received many private emails from women sharing their stories.  Please know that every single one of your stories and every single one of your babies has touched my heart.  Everyone who has given their support to me, my family, my boys, and my daughter through this blog has my deepest gratitude.

Baby C's induction date is Thursday, February 12th.  She will be 37 weeks exactly - full term :)  I cannot wait to introduce my little nugget to all of you.

36 weeks!!! Maternity pictures included :)

Yes, I am still pregnant!  Sorry I have been so horrible at posting updates.  I have been going crazy getting ready for Baby C.  Going into labor was a huge sign that well, maybe I should get that nursery done and get my hospital bags packed (note: bags are packed, nursery not done as of 2/5/15).  Plus, two nights ago our basement flooded (thank you, snowstorm of 2015).  Our flooring is torn up, a wall is knocked down, and all the stuff down there is now relocated to our main floor. So all my obsessive cleaning and nesting has gone to shit.

What else have I been up to?  Conner and Ben's story was posted on Faces of Loss.  You can check it out here. I hope their story, my story, can help other mothers know that they are not alone.

I applied for Summer 2015 graduation from grad school.  I am currently in the middle of writing my thesis that is focused on the bereavement patterns of mothers who have lost their babies.

Also, we got our maternity pictures back!  These were taken just two days before I went into labor.

And, of course, Baby C 's weekly update:

How far along? 36 weeks!!!  I can't believe we are here.  Everytime I go to the OB, the nurses all laugh in disbelief that I am there.  My OB took one look at me, shook his head and laughed, and said he was "floored" that I was still pregnant and he had no explanation for my labor stopping when it did.  I do, though - that's Conner and Ben looking out for their sister, and that is the immense support group we have had through our family, friends, The Bump, and of course you ladies praying like crazy!  No medical explanation, but I think this is even better.
What's happening with  baby? She seems to be totally oblivious to the fact that she almost made her appearance last week. She's getting bigger, stronger, and prepping for the "real world."  We did have her growth scan the day after I was discharged.  Not surprisingly, her growth has slowed again - drastically.  I am really hoping we get her out before something goes wrong with her placenta or umbilical cord.
Total weight gain: Well, the "clears" diet in the hospital made me lose weight, but I have gained it back.  But that pretty much means that I'm status quo in my weight gain - I think I'm only up about 22 or 23 pounds. It's all in my belly and I feel like I am going to tip over.
Maternity clothes?  Hell yes. And at this point, my maternity underwear is tight.  My husband suggests not wearing any.
Stretch marks? NOPE!!!!  I thought I did for awhile but turns out they were just scratch marks.  I'm looking forward to working out and putting my non-pregnant body into a bikini this summer.
Sleep: Barenaked Ladies "Who Needs Sleep" just played in my head. Haha, remember them?!
Miss Anything?  Being able to get out of bed without assistance, rolling, grunting, and excessive breathing.
Difficulties this week: Being terrified of my water breaking at home.  It usually breaks at the end of the 1st stage of labor - which is exactly when my labor ended at the hospital.  So my doctors have warned me of that.  Luckily, the FD has said that they will send the ambulance for me if I need it (and they'll even take me to MY hospital, which they never drive to). Gotta love those guys.
Movement: It's getting crowded in my uterus!  Baby girl is moving for sure, but more rolling and adjusting herself than kicks and punches.
Food cravings/aversions:  Aversions, ha. Feed me. Last night we went for a 10 pm Taco Bell run.  We almost didn't, but then remembered that in a week we won't be able to just spontaneously go to Taco Bell at night so we better take advantage while we can!
Symptoms: The swelling in my face - ugh. Chubby cheeks.
Looking forward to: I think everyone knows the answer to this question :) Tomorrow, we get our induction date!  My OB believes that we will induce next Friday the 13th.  To quote Michael from The Office:

11:27 and 11:43. Who will you be when I see you again?

Friday, January 10th, 2014. 11:27 a.m. Conner Timothy is born, handed to me wrapped up in hospital blankets and wearing a little blue hat.  He is baptized and I melt under his presence.
Friday, January 10th, 2014. 11:43 a.m. Benjamin Michael is born, wrapped just like his brother and wearing a blue and white striped hat.  He is also baptized, and for the first time ever, the four of us are a family.

Dear Conner and Benjamin,

Saturday was your first birthday.  I anxioulsy prepared for this day, and I didn't know what to expect. I had two times engraved in my mind: 11:27 and 11:43.  I made a note to make sure I knew what I was doing at those times so that I could wish you both a happy birthday.

I missed it.

Like any normal parent, I was too busy running around picking up your birthday cake and the 40 balloons that we would release for you that day. We did a minion theme.  I was watching Despicable Me 2 the night I went into labor. I always imagined you two getting into shenanigans with each other just like the little yellow minions. Your daddy noted the times, though.  I wish he would have told me. I missed it, like I am going to miss so many things in your life. Your first steps, your first day of school, your graduations, your weddings, your own babies. I have so little that I can do for you, and I missed it.

But I do know what I was doing.  One of your daddy's friends from the fire department and his wife stopped by and surprised us with balloons and elephants for your birthday.  The elephants had your names on it and pins that said "I am ONE."  I got caught up in their kindness, and I missed your birth times.  But please know, I was thinking of you regardless.

I didn't shed one tear on your first birthday.  There were times when I thought I might, but the day was so filled with love that it was difficult to be upset.  Friends and family messaged us all day, telling us they were thinking us and of you.  We had close family and friends over for cake and a balloon release, and you even got presents (books, of course!).  Daddy and I went to Lovell's that night  - owned by Jim Lovell's family. He was an Apollo 8 and Apollo 13 astronaut, and the restaurant is filed with NASA memoribilia - perfectly fitting with your "love you to the moon and back" theme.

People sent us messages and emails about their random acts of kindness that they did, and I couldn't believe the response.  You are both making such a huge difference in the world.  As your mom, one of my goals is for you to be remembered, always.  I do not want your legacy to be grief.  I want people to remember you and smile. The RAOKs are still rolling in, and I will write more about that later.

Today, January 12th, marks exactly one year from the last time I saw you, held you, kissed your little heads.  The last thing I told you both was to take care of each other. I hope that you are best buddies in heaven, like I so hoped you would be here on earth. I sobbed, and the nurse and women from the funeral home cried with me. I couldn't believe I would never get to hold you again in this lifetime.

I cannot help but wonder: who will you be when I see you next?  Will you be the little babies, swaddled in blankets, with your blue knitted hats?  Will you be toddlers, running around playing with toy trucks?  Will you be teenagers, anxious to see me but scared at the same time? Will you be adults, and will I have missed a big portion of your life in heaven?  I hope that you are little... whether that be infants or toddlers... please stay little. I want to gather you up in my arms and snuggle you and all the things that we got robbed of when you passed away. Stay little, stay little, stay little.

I hope you recognize me when we see each other again.  I hope my voice is familiar and you know that I am your mommy. I can't wait to finally see your eyes, hold onto your hands, and kiss your little foreheads and cheeks.

I went the whole weekend without crying and I definitely am now.

One year closer to seeing you again, boys. My grief does not get easier, but I have managed to find ways to think of you with love and joy instead of tears and sorrow. Until we meet again, know that I will love you and think of you every second of every day. I will never be complete until I can hold you again.

Love you - to the moon and back,
Mommy

Happy First Birthday, Baby Boys

"I am ONE" elephants

Candles for our boys

Miranda of course joined in (I also have a feeling she thought she was turning one and the party was for her)

Bottom layer: banana with strawberry preserves (because minions love bananas!) 

Top layer: chocolate with strawberry preserves (to appease the general public)

Mommy and Miranda's ballloons got caught in the tress the first time, so this is take two

They got caught in the trees again! But miracles happen, boys - and the balloons somehow untangled themselves and flew away.  I think maybe you had something to do with that :)

Jum Lovell with the cast of Apollo 13