Home Stretch!

Now let's see... where did I leave off?

OH YEA!! I'm pregnant! Hee Hee.

It's been 8 months since I announced to family and friends that my husband and I were expecting another tiny bundle of joy. Now, we are 36 weeks along; with only 4 weeks left, we are in the home stretch!

Phew!! I almost feel like I can finally breathe again. Almost...

The fears from losing Elijah are still very much real. I also carry guilt. Guilt that I am doing ok in life and am moving on. Yet, I don't really see it as moving on without him. I am moving on with him.

Our son Paighton is very excited about the new baby. So much that we let him pick the name! Now at first he was choosing names like Captain America, Thor, Cupcake, Poopy Pants and so on. So we had a talk about real names, animal names and pretend names. He got better. He began picking names like Ethan, Dominic, and Emma (if baby was a girl). I turned those down as well considering those are the names of kids in his preschool class. Ethan seemed to be a bit of a bully with a very scary anger management problem. He once bit Dominic in the leg because he wanted to sit by Paighton in school and Dominic refused to move. Yikes! Dominic is Paighton's BFF and Emma is Paighton's girlfriend. WHAT?! Yup... I said it... girlfriend! However now that school is over and summer is here, he really hasn't kept in touch much with his friends. We try but its hard to plan with ever changing schedules.

So what shall we name baby? Hmm... it was tough for a 4-year old to pull out a name from thin air when he hasn't had much personal experiences yet to know what names are really out there. At the time, his favorite two movies he was constantly streaming throughout the day over and over and over again were E.T. (yes, the creepy alien movie - classic by the way) and Alvin & The Chipmunks: Chipwrecked. OH MY GAWD these movies were driving me insane! But I turned what was a mind-splitting annoyance into a positive and got him thinking. What about the names Elliott or Theodore? He thought those were perfect! Finally, I got him to narrow names down to two. Elliott and Theodore.

We stuck on those names for a very long time. It wasn't until a couple months ago that we all, even daddy, agreed on Theodore. Theodore Robert (my dad's name is Robert). I am very happy and satisfied with our decision as a family. I even have a super cute story to tell Theo when he grows up that his brother Paighton named him. Now we'll see if he likes the reason behind the why... because Theodore is the chubby chipmunk that eats too much. There is just something about an over-indulging fur ball I find to be incredibly adorable!

So a chubby chipmunk. It just might be a perfect fit. A month ago, Theo had a growth ultrasound (we get an ultrasound every visit and a growth every 4 weeks) and he measured 9 days ahead of schedule; putting himself at the 78th percentile for his weight class. WOW! Paighton always measured in the 30s percentiles for weight. Theo is going to be one hefty boy! He sure is going to take after his daddy! I picture giant chest and shoulders, like a gorilla. My husband and his father have very big upper bodies. I love it. Especially when my husband wraps those giant arms around me and pulls me in for a extra strong hug. I feel safe and the stress just melts right off me.

Paighton on the other hand takes a lot after me. He is tall and skinny. I don't think we will be skinny forever since he has ambitions to become a UFC fighter. Oh, and a cop, a firefighter, Captain America, mailman, McDonald's worker, a dentist, a baby doctor, a construction worker, a boxer, a football player, a hockey player, and... am I missing any? He loves to stay busy! I like our conversations with each other of what he is going to be when he grows up. Its safe to say he doesn't have any self esteem issues when it comes to his ability to accomplish anything! If he wants to aim for the Moon or farther, I know he will. And I will let him; standing right behind him for encouragement the entire way. I am very proud of my big (not so little anymore) boy.

One area where Paighton isn't all Captain America-can-do-attitude are things more of the sentimental or emotional things. Now I'm not saying he isn't sensitive, because he is. He is just very extra-sensitive. He goes deeper in his thoughts and reasoning than I'd expect from a child his age. But then again, he has experienced more things in his short life than most his peers would at this age. He is very much in touch about death. It makes me a little uncomfortable at times, but I think we manage it well. We always answer his questions without sugar coating anything, but we also don't go further than what is required for him to understand and be content with the answer given.

Now even though Paighton is very excited for Baby Theo, he really hasn't shown complete acceptance yet. He will say cute things once in awhile like "I'm not helping with poopy diapers" and "I don't want him to sleep in my room because he will pee on my bed and chew on my toys" but he also says things that bring us back to the day we lost Elijah. That's when it gets tough. He doesn't fully believe yet that Theo is going to survive. One day he and daddy where gluing paper cutouts of people onto paper making our family. He added dad, mom, himself, and then stopped. He pondered for a bit, then grabbed a baby cutout and said something along the lines of not wanting to add Theo because if he dies then he will have to rip it off the paper. Nothing was mentioned about Elijah. Andy encouraged him to add Theo, and said its ok to to glue it on and we'll just see what happens.

Its really hard because all we want to do is promise to Paighton that Theo will not die. We are literally 99.999999999% (you get the idea) sure that Theo will not die. Same goes for me. Mommy is not going to die. But we are not God. God decides all; who, when, where, how, why (wish I knew the why part of that). I cannot bring myself to promise him anything because I hate breaking promises. He cried for days when I promised he could see his cousins, or his BFF Dominic, and it just didn't work out. I broke my promise. Usually because of circumstances out of my own control, but he doesn't understand that. I don't expect him to understand either. He is 4, not an adult. So I can understand his own anxiousness and frustration in me when I wont give him a straight yes or no answer. I try my best to avoid this question on a daily basis right now.

In efforts to prepare Paighton for the birth of Theo, we watch A Baby Story on TLC, search videos on YouTube and spend time with family and friends with babies. We have even asked him if he would like to watch daddy cut the umbilical cord (entering the room after Theo is born and all is calm of course). This sparked another emotional melt down. Sorry we asked! He first became just unresponsive, then bluntly said "NO" and stormed out our room. After he came back, I asked why. Of course I am not going to force him, but as his mother, I need to know why and what upset him so much. He expressed himself very well and I'm proud of him for opening up to me. Not only did he not want to see dad cut the cord, he doesn't want dad to cut it at all. Period. He said he didn't want me to get an owie; to get hurt - to die. He said he likes his baby brother and doesn't want him to die and if daddy cuts the cord, Theo will die and I will get an owie. My heart felt so heavy listening to him say these things. I assured him it wont hurt me at all; nor will it hurt Theo. Its a part of real life and Theo cant live stuck to me forever. We examined Paighton's belly button and explained how big and strong he got all on his own without being stuck to mommy. He calmed down and the topic hasn't resurfaced since. Not sure if it will.

As the days go on, he is getting very impatient for Theo's arrival. So am I! We are due September 2nd, but I really have a gut feeling that he will make an early appearance. If he doesn't, and I am wrong, that is okay too! Paighton's birthday is August 31st, and making sure he isn't shoved to the side and still gets to have a full day of all about him, I scheduled his birthday party to be on the 17th instead. A whole two weeks early! Now if I didn't plan far enough in advance and Theo comes before then, or on e the day, I am going to feel so awful! I stress about it every day right now. Just PLEASE not before or on, just come after the 17th... PLEASE!!

Another amazing thing about my three boys are their due dates... Both Paighton and Theo were estimated to be due on September 2nd. Elijah was due August 28th. Paighton and Elijah were both born on the 31st of the month. Strange as it is... I think Theo will be born on August 28th. It would be kind of neat I think. Sweet and honorable.

If I am going to make it to August 28th, I've got a lot of focusing and praying to do! I have begun dilating already! Last I was checked I was at 1.5.  I have horrible nighttime contraction episodes that last about 2 hours and tons of swelling. At least I am able to stay home and relax if I absolutely need to. The past two months I wasn't able to. Paighton had baseball and swimming lessons. We were on the go Monday through Thursday of every week. Its hard being pregnant and sitting on a stiff bleacher under the hot sun. Paighton had tons of fun but boy, am I glad its over! I told him from  now on, I think we are doing swimming lessons indoors. We will have to see how he feels about baseball next year. I am hoping he will want to drop it; I'm not much of a baseball fan. I'd like to see him get into kickboxing, football, hockey or soccer; some kind of sport I can actually watch without wanting to bang my hand into a brick wall. Even football might be a stretch for me... not a fan. I just get easily bored.

Looking back to my past life, life before kids and a husband, I never in a million years saw myself where I am today. But you know what? I am glad it happened. It took a lot of hurt to get here and it may not be picture perfect but it's perfect for me. I have a great husband who loves me and protects me from everything and everyone, and two (almost three) amazing sons who constantly teach and challenge me every day, and two super annoying cats with personality disorders that I think are just animal versions of how I'd like to act in real life but don't.

Those are the things that I have. You cannot buy them with any amount of money yet they are worth more than any house, car, boat, toy, latest tech gadget, social status or what have you.

I am the richest woman in the world. My family is priceless.

My family is perfect.

Baby #... 5?

Tonight brings lots of excitement, hope, worry, fear, and an endless list of self-asked questions.

Yes, we are pregnant.

Last October I promptly shared the great news to all that Baby # 3 was coming soon. I was so happy and excited, I wrote those words on my driveway using my 4 year old's chalk and took a picture to share. But as I wrote the number "3", I felt off.

Baby #3. I only have one kid. He is 4, but then there was Elijah. He was a baby (Baby #2). He didn't live past 3 hours, but was still here. Very much as real as you and I. He is still a baby in my heart and my mind every day. But he isn't here to see and hold everyday. Sometimes I feel so hurt by that, that I don't want to include him in the official kid count. Is that wrong of me? It's certainly something I am working on; and get better at but still i get tripped up by those random people..."who many kids do you have?" ONE!, I blurt out. It's my way of shielding myself of having to explain the story to anyone I do not know, or just rubs me the wrong way.

But what a lot of people that heard the Baby #3 news in October, do not know this... it was actually Baby #4. Three months prior, in July, we took a trip to Faith's Lodge in Danbury, WI. It was a retreat for bereaved parents for a chance in whatever a person wanted: hope, to recharge, to reflect, to remember, to cry, to laugh. Whatever the moment called for, that is what we did. And we all did it together. It was an experience only we know as we made friends and created bonds (and inside jokes). Sadly, on our 2nd night there, we ended up having to drive to the ER. I was miscarrying. But since I was so early on, they just sent me home (after an exam making sure I was ok). I was so upset, yet oddly relieved. We hadn't told anyone we were pregnant so there wasn't any news to tell anyone we lost it. You can't loose what you never had.

But I was relieved. Relieved that I wasn't father along in a pregnancy I wasn't meant to have. I was relieved I didn't have to give birth to another "Elijah", hold him, kiss him, and wake up to find him dead. I thank God for not putting me through that horror story again.

So the miscarriage I never told anyone from July, prompted me to be more anxious about telling people in October. I told myself "It still counts". I want to be happy, and I deserve to be happy about it. We told everyone a few days after we found out. Two days after we told people, I miscarried. I was more upset about the fact that I still had people saying congrats as I was trying to keep up with taking it back and explaining that no, I was not longer pregnant. Whatever I guess.

So now I come to tonight, and the news of having a baby, that may or may not stick around. I guess it is in God's master plan if I am meant for this, this time around.

I still can't help to think that i have been pregnant four times (now tonight is five) and I only have one living child today. Although I think about it, I am not angry. i am frustrated, as a person would be in attempting to jump on a pogo stick. Frustrated with a giant dose of determination. I say to myself, "I will succeed!"

I just know I am meant to have more kids. It is in my blood, in my family history, in my heart. I have dreams in my sleep seeing my family of (oh I don't know how many exactly) a lot running a muck in the house. To the outside world it looks like chaos; dirty house, marker on the wall, boys pulling the girls' hair, and the girls flushing the boys' army guys down the toilets, hence creating the flood even Moses himself would be afraid to touch!. But in my eyes I see them creating the world amongst themselves. I see stories of pirates come to life as they stand on top of the couch holding onto a soup ladle. I see generosity as they fight and learn how to share. I see compassion as they stick up for each other, and even attempt to hide the truth from me as I interrogate them to find out who really flushed the army guys down the toilets.

I grew up in chaos. Loud noises. Rowdy boys and whiny girls. I like full houses. I just do not understand smaller families. Those seem foreign to me, and even more clicky and "VIP to enter". Geez, it's pretty much impossible to not only have, but sustain a relationship. My experiences only I guess. I am sure there are lots of small families that work best in their own way. I wont ever understand it though.

I am determined to have a large family. And if that means that I, myself, cannot bear them all, I will adopt. I will foster. With the help of God, I will find a way. My aunt has shown me this is possible as long as you have the will to do it. She is an inspiration to me. I am very proud of her.

Children bring wonders to life. They bring out qualities and ideas in yourself that you never thought you had, hiding deep inside. Children are all so different too. They are like snowflakes; not one is the same as the other. Even twins, and I know this for a fact!!

Having a child is such a blessing. I love the feeling of being pregnant; even the icky feelings too! I know it's all part of the good things to come.

My hopes for this pregnancy, whatever number I decide to call it, is that it goes according to God's plan. I am working on taking the responsibility out of my hands and placing them into God's. I failed to realize this the last few times. Here I thought it was all mine and my husband's doing. It is not. I need to remind myself of that.

But I can always help of course...will lots of yummy foods and spoiled pampering from my husband!




To my Baby Elijah,
I miss you so very much. I hope that you celebrated the most wonderful Christmas up in Heaven. Your big brother Paighton talked about you, and sang Happy Birthday to Jesus, knowing He is taking good care of you and mommy's friend Danica. He is such a smart little guy. He remembers all our friends in Heaven and likes to talk about them often; especially you. You are his favorite.

Mommy and Daddy love you. Until then...sending hugs and kisses up to you...

All in a day's work

The one magazine my eyes always scope the room for when entering the waiting lobby of a doctor's clinic is The Reader's Digest. I thoroughly enjoy reading the funny antic's, quotes, and of course, real-life mishaps. I have never subscribed to this magazine, knowingly I would never have "free-time" to read them. It's because of the convenience that I am already at the doctor's office, forced to wait, is when I read them. They brighten my mood.

I wonder if any of my daily life happenings would be "Reader Digest" worthy? Probably not, but according to my husband and a few friends, I certainly know how to cram it all in.

To give you a small recap, I am a full time wife to a very busy 'over-full time' husband, a full time mommy to a very needy, yet stubborn wants-to-be-independent three-year old, a full-time employee, and a part-time college student. Oh, and don't forget the occassional volunteering for certain causes and charities I like to help support when I can. So can my life be any more hectic? No... also forgot to mention, we are selling our house and relocating about 45-minutes away from where we live now. Phew!

Today is the start of week #7 for classes. I have survived my first 2 exams; 82% on one and the other at a 87%. Not bad, but not what I was aiming for. I am one of my worst critics. I was aiming for 95% of better... I was in such a bad mood when I saw that. I can only be upset with one person: Me.

The past two weeks I have been battling a really bad cough as well. I finally went in to the express clinic (per the pleads I kept receiving from my co-workers. Sorry guys!). I was tested for pnemonia and pertussis. No results yet, but at least I departed with a prescription for an antibiotic regardless of the test results. On a side note, the doctor and I sat in the room for a bit laughing and cringing at a giant spider dangling in the window (the other side, otherwise I would NOT have been in that room for long!) about the size of a dried apricot. It was huge! I think it helped to break the ice with the doctor and pull him away from work, and come down to a more humanly level that wasn't so professional. I like those kinds of doctors.

Speaking of doctors, my son has passed his egg allergy! YAAY! First night for dinner, we had french toast. And again later that week... and then waffles, and waffles again... I think he likes maple syrup.

With all the things to do on my plate, I am struggling to find that balance between everything. I want to spend time with my family, but I also want to be #1 in class. I am very competitive and just as failure is not an option, neither is in the middle an option for me. It just will not do. Aside from family and class, I want to accel at work. I have been so tired though. I think this is more due to being sick.

I have, though, been making sure I find enough time for sleep. Family, school and work all are at risk of my monster mood if I am tired. I set myself up to fail if I am sleepy. I am unable to recall on anything from memory if I see dancing pillows and twirly blankets in my head. Ah, the joyful comfort of my temporpedic bed! It is about five years old, but holds me tight just as well.

Thinking back on one of the (many) reasons why I wanted to go back to school and finish my double-major, I remember Elijah being just that. He is my motivation pushing me to become better in all things I know. So with that said... I find myself becoming sluggish. I am thinking about him in ways I shouldnt. I am finding myself sad again. Feeling alone and forgotten about.

Facebook should be the last place to vent about something (or should this blog be as well?), but my sister had posted a very understandle vent about her miscarriage less than a year ago. She was hurt, that at a first glance of a moment to think, our mother had counted off she has four grandchildren. She left off my sister's miscarriage...

Yes, I would be hurt too. But what I think my sister, very young sister, forgets as well, is she never talks about it. It was my persistent questions to our father that gave way to what happened. He didnt want to tell; but knew that if he didnt, she never would.

I wish she would have told me. I would have acted completlely different had I known. Even after I knew, when the topic is never brought up, I assume it's not supposed to be. I try to respect space and privacy. Same goes for another person who has had hard feelings towards me, which I am assuming stems for her own hurt of losing a baby. Maybe I did the wrong thing? Mayve I wasnt there in a way I was meant to be. How am I to know if those who need help never ask for it?

When my other younger cousin miscarried, we texted a lot back and forth; all the while keeping that distance in attempts to stay polite.

I would hope that any of my family or friends who are feeling alone; reach out to someone you can trust, and find some peace. Our problems will never go away, but we can lean on each other and make the walk a bit easier.

I am supposed to be studying right now...

But with all these thoughts and feelings circulating through my head, who can study? Not me. I am just counting down the minutes to when my husband walks through that door with (fingers corssed) a happy preschooler showing off his new letter her learned today.

Can you tell my thoughts are very unorganized today? I can always tell myself when I write as if I am talking to a physical person sitting in front of me. I think its healthy to talk to yourself, to an extent.

I surpass that extent every day. Oops :)