Control

I seem to be having a better grasp on the control of my panic attacks with the use of my rescue meds. I call them rescue meds because that's what it pretty much does; rescues me. Only downside is it completely fuzzes my mind over to where I become "zombie-like"; I become very tired.

I believe this because the past few days have been a true trial to test my abilities; especially yesterday.

Since I heard the news of my cousin passing last Wednesday, I have had a whirlwind of emotions attaching to new thoughts. New thoughts for a new tragedy in my life. It may seem on the surface that I am having a hard time dealing with his death; in a small way I am. It's not about me though. It's about my cousin's parents and his sister and brother he had left behind; about his nephews and niece too. My heart aches the most for them.

Yesterday family gathered to help put together the photo collages for the funeral the next day. Although it was nice seeing just how many photos my cousin blessed us with, it was very bittersweet. If I can learn anything about strength in the loss of my own son, it's from my cousin's immediate family. I admire the strength my aunt has especially. She always has been a strong woman, this I know, but I haven't been able to see it in it's truest form until now. I understand life can go on.

Only some days I still get those feelings where I just don't care...

In time. Time heals right? This is something I am supposed to be working on for myself'; the control of my emotions and flashbacks of losing Elijah. It seems to be a very slow process. I do not like slow. I rather it be an overnight thing. Wake up and be "cured" from what feels like a disease slowing eating away at my happiness and self will.

Losing Elijah has been the hardest thing I have ever done. I miss his touch and the sound of his coos. I am afraid of forgetting those things. I am afraid of forgetting him. Maybe this is the reason I am having a hard time moving on? If I move on, I cannot take him with me; or at least it feels that way.

To my dear cousin, my friend and brother in Christ, you have always been amazingly wonderful with small children. I ask you, with the help of my friend Danica as well, please stay with my Elijah. Please teach him about me so that when he is reunited with his mommy, he may already know me.

Until then, rest in peace. In my heart you stay forever...

Maktub

"Maktub"; an Arabic word meaning "it is written".

This one simple, yet powerful, word resonates throughout the book The Alchemist; a novel by Paulo Coehlo.

I have read this book in the past and have started to read it again to help me get back up on my feet.

I have been knocked back down pretty hard today. I thought I made a huge step forward; only to come home to more bad news.

I went to a funeral today. My first since my own son's Elijah's. I purposely chose not to attend wakes or funerals of family and friends; but was compelled at first notice to go to this one; a man I have only seen once briefly over three years ago. It was a small and quick introduction to a large group of people; which I had sat amongst.

I didn't even think twice when I had heard what happened. I jumped in my car and drove as if I were fleeting somewhere. It didn't even hit me until I was about a mile away from the church; oh my gosh... this is the first funeral since... Elijah's.

I broke down. Called a friend. Regained my composure and walked in. I immediately felt the warmth and love surrounding people in the room. I gazed upon the many photos of this man and saw the happiness in his eyes as he sat near his wife while holding his daughter. The tears began to flood again.

As I stood in line waiting to pay my respects (in all honesty, I wanted to budge up to the front and just wrap my arms around her as to touch my heart to hers), my eyes froze upon him. Now Elijah was not an open casket. Nor any casket if that. He was cremated; probably for the best. I began thinking about the book The Alchemist and "maktub". By the way, this man's wife is the person who handed me this book over three years ago. I thought of how "it is written"; our lives are already planned out for us yet we have a part in realizing our own personal legend and play a part in writing our own destiny.

All things happen for a reason right? So what is his reason? Same question I am still trying to understand for my son. And now tonight... another dear loved family member. Why? Why must we be placed here on Earth only to leave behind sadness?

Nothing anyone could have done or known could have changed what has already happened or is about to happen. Maktub.

Yet I am left dumbfounded by the shock and confusion and emotions I feel for two people: someone I hardly know and someone I used to know but grew apart; all in one day. Yes, I lost Elijah and I am extremely distraught over it everyday. Yes, I only had about 20 minutes with him, but I never grew a bond with him only a husband and wife can have. Or a bond only parents have with their adult children. He was a baby but only accomplished little things such as sucking his thumb. That little thing is huge to me, but it's not as huge as creating memories. Memories of happiness and even more so moments of pure annoyance. It's the little things that annoys a person that ends up missing the most when it's gone; leaving the cap off on the toothpaste tube or spraying too much PAM on a frying pan.

Maktub. We never know when our chapter in Earth's book will be written and finished. A new chapter will be started to tell the great journey of a young man in search for his own treasure; his personal legend.

As I follow my journey of healing in the loss of those I love and those I do not know; I only hope that I really do come out a stronger person as everyone keeps saying I will. I hope I find my opportunity to heal the hurt and cure the sick and love the unloved.

To the man's wife, I am so deeply sorry.
To my friend, I wish you knew just how much you truly are loved and how much we needed you here with us.

"Maktub"

Tribute

I want to pay tribute to a special baby boy: Baby Henry.

Baby Henry, son of Sarah and Kevin, was diagnosed with the same triplody as Elijah in October.

He was born via C-section January 4th, 2011. He lived strongly for 2 days.

Baby Henry, I am so proud of you for defeating the odds to spend more time with your mommy and daddy. You will be missed dearly by your family everyday.

Until the day comes for you to be rejoined with your family, please keep my baby boy Elijah company.

God Bless all the little babies in the world; especially Baby Elijah and Baby Henry.

Ruminate

-ruminate
1. to think deeply about something

I recently learned this new word and started using it to better describe my thoughts without sounding like a crazy person. Thank you Jeff. One past example has been referred to as a violent tornado; the thoughts just whirlwind around. Just as a cow passes in front of my eyes, then it's a house, then a car.

My thoughts have been 'ruminating'; almost to the point of uncontrollable.

It has been awhile since I have last written on my blog. Not because there hasn't been anything to write about, but more so because there has been too much; I have to organize again. Partially also because I do not feel 100% safe exposing myself wholly due to past circumstances of emotional attacks from loved ones. I guess some people cannot, and may not ever, understand that people cope and grieve differently.

So ruminating...
My metaphorical cows, houses, and cars have been more realistically about family, friends, work, and life aspirations. One moment I am thinking so intensely on my grandmother who has had yet another aneurysm followed by a stroke and the discovery of a blood clot in her brain the size of an orange to thinking about my sister wishing she would do better for herself in life because she deserves it for herself and owes it to her 3 1/2 year old son. Then I go on to think about my dad and how stressed he is with having to deal with my sister and his mother (my grandmother) and the separation of his believed-to-be soul mate of 11 years.

All of these thoughts are constantly fighting for my attention and I am being drained; exhausting myself once again by putting everyone before myself and eventually I become self-forgotten.

There is also my husband's sister, Amy. For as long as I have been in the family, she has struggled with her weight and self-image. I think she is a beautiful person and an awesome mother to her three boys. The youngest of the three, Ben (I call him Benny), adores his mother. The look in his eyes and smile on his face when those two talked to each other or played and joked around is one of the reasons I wanted to become a mom myself. It made my heart melt.
Amy has been and still is battling bulimia. Last I heard she weighed a whole 73 pounds. She is in Fargo, ND as of now fighting for her life. I am afraid for her. I am afraid for her husband and sons.

I wish there was something I could do or say to give her encouragement, but I am at a complete loss. I have never felt completely accepted into my husband's family; or that it is just very different from the family I am used to from growing up as a child. I do not want to overstep my boundaries. I want to show I care without giving off the vibe of an outsider intruding in private matters. Her husband had asked that I come with on the next visit to see her; but she herself never asks that of me.

I also wish I knew what it was in Amy's past that ignited this contagious fire that is slowly killing her. If I could I would take it all away from her. She doesn't deserve to hurt; she deserves to watch her children grow up and become great people.

It's like that movie, "The Butterfly Effect". If one were to ever travel into the past, a simple flutter of a butterfly's wings would create universal changes for the future to come. If only I could travel into the past and find that little girl named Amy, I could create a whole new life for her. A simple compliment of "cute braids" or an offer to share half of a peanut butter sandwich could have possibly done the trick. Then again, I am at a total loss; not to mention time travel does not exist... yet. I truly believe though that something or someone in her past has hurt her and caused her this horrible disease. I ask all of you to please keep my sister-in-law, Amy, in your thoughts and prayers as she needs them more now than ever. She deserves it.

Another thought that continues to float about my head every day is that fact that within my family, younger and younger yet, the women and young girls are miscarrying their babies. When that thought hits me, I get stuck in the moment and become angry. It wasn't fair that my baby Elijah had to leave so soon, and it isn't fair that my baby cousins have to loose their babies so soon also. I say baby cousins because in my mind, I can still see the innocence of their younger selves; even though they are adults. Miscarriages used to be a thing more common to women in their 40s and beyond. Why is is that my cousins 30 and younger are miscarrying? Is it the food we eat nowadays? Everything is processed. Just yesterday I had read on Facebook, a friend's comment about reading the ingredients of an apple cinnamon muffin mix. It included the ingredient "artificial apple bits". What is an artificial apple, may I ask? How long and how much money did it cost researchers and chemists to create and artificial apple? Wouldn't it have been easier to dehydrate a real apple? It's history to go out to the barn to snatch a few eggs, milk the cow and hack off a few chickens.

I feel for my cousins in having to go though such tragedy. Again, butterfly effect. I would if I could. In thinking of them and Elijah, I fear having to get pregnant again. I fear having to lose another baby or even myself. I also fear Paighton forever being labeled as an only child.

As mentioned in the beginning, I haven't written in awhile. I have forgotten about myself and lost my organization skills to put my thoughts into words understandable to others. I have also lost grasp of how to cope and ask for help. I started to revert back to April of last Spring. The nightly sounds of a crying baby have come back. If I fully wake up before getting out of bed in the middle of the night, I realize and understand it isn't real and scold myself to go back to sleep. However, I do sometimes find myself wondering around the house looking for Elijah; then I wake up. Usually turning on a light will trigger me to awaken. I am also getting the "phantom" kicks again. More than likely it is gas since I refuse to pay attention to the fact I am lactose intolerant; I love cheese. Still, maybe it has always been there and I was able to block it out of my head, but lately I am more and more aware and sensitive when I feel a kick come within.

Lastly, I haven't really been able to label this one until with the help of a doctor, but I guess I am experiencing flashbacks from Elijah's birth. I didn't understand exactly what was happening; I would explain them to my husband as"episodes". I usually either have them when I am alone or at work. When I am doing something productive I don't. I am not productive when I am by myself. At work, for the most part I am productive but it is repetitive. I get in a rhythm were I start to lose that focus and wander off in a daydream; a daydream that goes horribly wrong. It starts out with a thought of course. As they all circulate though my mind, in the background is Elijah's birth. I use a lot of energy forcing that thought to the back because I know what happens if I let it slip thought. I see it and grab onto it; I hone in on it until I lose my sense of surrounding. I cannot break from it on my own. Someone has to snap me out of it or I will completely fall apart as I follow the emotions and sometimes physical pain in order going into labor, him being born, handing him off to my husband, losing conscientiousness, waking up in the ER, holding a dead baby, then leaving for home. My emotions start at high anxiety and end at calm yet saddened; clear minded.

I have been out of work since last Monday due to a huge flashback that I couldn't control and couldn't snap out of. I left work in the afternoon to go to lunch but found myself sitting in my vehicle at the park flipping out. I seriously felt like I was back at Abbott. I didn't realize I was even in my vehicle until I got to the part of going home. I know I am not crazy though; so everyone can be rest assured. I have seen quite a few doctors and psychologists since and they all said I am just fine. I need to take a lot of steps back from helping others and focus on myself, is what they said in their own words.

Nevertheless, my mind continues to ruminate about anything and everything possible. Sure I can start saying "no" to those asking for my help, but how am I to stop the thoughts? I still stress out about everyone else because I do care and begin to feel like a bad person for knowing full well what they are going through yet I refuse to jump in and help. What a horrible thing to do; stand on a beach and watch people drown. Nice.

Regardless, my main focus and goal is to control my flashbacks. My biggest hurdle was finally breaking down and asking for help from an actual professional. Ugh, I cant stand shrinks but hopefully with their help I wont need them for long.

So when I got home from the hospital last Monday after my "flashback episode", my husband and I laid in our room crying uncontrollably. He pulled out Elijah's things and shared with me a card that was given to us at the funeral by someone he knows though work. This card, simple in itself, stuck out to Andrew like a sore thumb; it is a constant reminder and encouragement for him and had hope it would be for me as well.

It was...

Things that make you go "hmm"

I lay awake every night with my thoughts circling about in my mind like a chaotic hurricane. I know its coming, but yet I fail to prepare for it. I think of things that keep me pondering; questions without answers. It is very much like eating soup without a spoon... pointless.

I am asked to help others. My question, am I really of any help right now? I feel like I am more harmful than helpful. A time bomb with just seconds to spare before all hell breaks loose.

I am supposed to be the strong one; well that is how everyone else thinks anyways. Ha, what do you know? Nothing. You have even forgotten about my son anyways. No one remembers except my husband and I.

Then I think about things a little more present time. School, work, friends, and even family.

I have yet to finish my college degree but I feel so busy at work that I wouldn't be able to successfully balance both without taking away from either of them. I want to do my absolute 100% best in both areas; work and school. The how would that take away from my husband and son?

Most of my friends have very different lives than me. It is hard to keep up with them.

Family, well... that would take more time then I have tonight to explain. Let's just say, you can't choose family.

Where there is a will, there is a way right? So you have soup with no spoon?

I'd say wrap both hands around your bowl and lift...

World of Hate

Is it wrong of me to be so angry at the world right now?

I try my best to always be a good person and respect everyone regardless if they deserve it or not. Regardless of my mood at the time.

Lately, I have been walking around with such an attitude. Although most people cannot tell; they think I am tired. That is usually the excuse I play it off as.

I just don't want to be seen by anyone. I want to hide away again for just a little bit at the very least. I volunteer for an organization called Junior Achievement, teaching 1st graders the meaning of financial literacy. I didn't even want to go today. I am so irritable. It was a good thing I went because there are these three boys I just adore. They get me excited for what my son may be like himself once he hits first grade. Then I start thinking of how I will never know about my other son... he is dead...

It hurts so bad to say that; my son is dead. It is the truth though and I cant change it. I seem to keep going in a circle of emotions. The hardest ones to relive are denial and shock. I am so shocked that my son is not here with me. So much so, I deny it.

I can tell when someone is thinking of their own babies they left behind at daycare for the day; knowing its just a few hours away until cuddle time. Their eyes smile. I can almost hear their heart flutter. Mine feels like a rock. I am happy for them, but so envious at the same time. I am secretly mad at them for having what was taken from me so quickly and without any conditions. I didn't have a choice even if there was anything I could do about it. I start to think self-righteous thoughts and then the attitude sets in. My mother or husband usually sets me straight again, but a few days later it will only come back again.

People have always told me that things like this will only make you a better and stronger person. Well, that's a load of crap.

The only person who had actual decency to be truthful and blunt was a co-worker of my husband's. He told us, "it will tear you apart". And is has.

Losing someone is to lose someone. How do you lose something you never had to begin with? I never got to spend time with Elijah; only to sit there and feel his kicks, punches, and somersaults within me. That was the only interaction I got to have with him. I didn't even get to spend time with him when he was born because I lost myself in the moment and then was knocked out by the doctors and didn't wake up till past midnight. He had already gone by then.

When I think of what it might have been like during the exact moment of Elijah passing, I get so PISSED that I wasn't the one holding him. Not even his own daddy at least. I try to picture my mother sitting in small pale room by herself holding my sweet baby boy. Then I wonder what it might have felt for her, worrying about the life of her daughter all the while the life of her daughter's baby is slipping away.

IT IS NOT FAIR!

NO BODY should have to lose a baby, regardless of age. Why are we put on this earth only to wait around and die?

I just don't know what to write about anymore tonight; I am way too upset to even think straight. I have begun rambling....

Space

I recently uploaded pictures of my baby Elijah on Facebook. Something I thought I would never do for fear someone would have something horrible to say. I had pictures from our 3D/4D ultrasounds up there for quite some time, but not his birth photos. I took me awhile thinking about it; not sure if I could stomach sifting through them trying to choose which ones to pick and which ones not to pick.

Nevertheless, there are some up and posted. I have many favorites. Every single one is special to me and stands out. There is one particular one I love; Elijah with his three aunties. Well, technically, they are not his aunts. More so long ago high school friends, but better this way because they choose to be my friend instead of forced to due to family ties. After all my crazy antics and embarrassing, maybe even annoying, times, they love me them same. I love them too.

As I opened up that little vanilla colored folder tucked into the corner of my laptop's screen, titled funeral memorial, I bit my bottom lip hoping not to cry. I tried to brace myself for the worst, but then I remembered that the worst that could happen has already happened.

After skimming the ultrasound pictures, I came upon the one where I was holding Elijah literally two seconds after he was born; he was sucking his thumb. I remember the doctors and nurses wiping him down and slipping on a little tiny hat. The hat looked homemade and was tied off at the top with a simple black string of yarn. I had such a horrible look on my face; I wish I would have looked more happy to see him but I was so focused on his death rather than his birth. I hate myself for that. I still can't get over but to blame myself for not trying harder to save him.

Save him...
I wonder what that is even supposed to mean...

In my house sits my son in a box. A box inside a glass case next to other physical items like his pajamas, hat, sea shells that held the holy water for his baptism, and more. This stuff, just plain stuff, takes up space. Yet when I wrap my arms around myself to squeeze empty space, I feel just that... space.

I want to feel my son. I see his pictures, and they remind me that he is real. He happened. He lived, breathed air, cooed soft coos, and even looked right into my eyes like I had begged God for with all my life. Yet no baby...

I find myself sitting alone throughout the day, thinking I have two babies. But I don't. When that realization hits me, I just want to scream. It feels like I am losing him all over again. I start to panic, hyperventilate, and just become detached from what is happening right in front of me. This cycle happens pretty much every hour... I feel like I am stuck in a nightmare of a maze and can't my way out.

My husband called me one day from work. His voice soft and quiet. He just said two simple words with a child-like tone, "I sad". I knew why. There was nothing I could do for him. We were both at work and had no where to go. Stuck...

I wish the pictures could at least help sooth over the empty space that Elijah has left us, make it numb for an hour or two, but they can't.

I was just thinking tonight what I remembered from my son Paighton when he was a baby. It is hard to imagine him now and him then was the same person. I remember how he felt; his tiny just-days-old body against mine while I snuggled against him all day. It upsets me because I struggle to remember Elijah's. I don't want to forget how it felt holding him. I remember... it's just drifting away, something I wasn't prepared for. Then again, I was prepared for anything that has happened.

I am upset that this space exists and feel that I need to play the blame game in order to get rid of it. But who am I to blame? God? Science? Myself? None of them makes sense, well, maybe myself a little, but where do I even begin to start?

Missing Elijah so much just makes my craving for a newborn baby intensify. I think about, if ever, in the future I were to have another baby. My first fears begin to tug on me as I try to prepare myself for the death of that baby. The baby doesn't even exist, yet I am planning its funeral. Secondly, fear sets in about me losing my own life. My husband and son to fend for themselves without a wife, and no mommy. I tears me apart when my mind begins to play mental images of my husband sitting my son down at age 10 and explaining that mommy died. Then I see my son at age 17 with his high school friends and someone cracks a joke about the death of someone's mom. Paighton responds, "well, my mom died, but it doesn't bother me, it's not like I even knew her or remember her, so whatever". I want my children to love me, I fear they won't. After my mind and tears are so exhausted from fretting over those fears, then I begin to fear about not loving the baby because I am so distraught over Elijah still. I fear I will resent the new baby, thinking I should have Elijah and not him/her. I fear I won't have any emotional attachment whatsoever with the new baby.

What am I talking about anyways? I am not even pregnant and I am driving myself crazy. Like mentioned previously, the "What If" Queen.

I'd like to think, what if Elijah was born? Would I have lived? When I think of that, tied into Paighton growing up without a mommy, I thank God for taking care of my ill child and leaving me behind to stay with my family. God spared my husband and son from the pain of losing me, and saved Elijah from pains of having to live a life of surgeries.

I just hurt, so bad, that we all had to go our separate ways so soon.

Letter to Elijah

My Dear Son, Elijah,

As the days pass, there is never a moment I don't think about you. You are always on my mind. I find myself needing to talk about you in order to feel you. To feel you is to feel alive. When I am away from my family, I feel dead inside. You, I can carry with where ever I may go.

Your big brother, Paighton, is now two years old. I see a lot of you in him. He helps me get through lonely nights when I need you most. He will come into my room and jump on your teddy bear that sacredly holds the sound of your heart. We bounce and dance on the bed to its rhythm. I move to the beat of your heart everyday as the sound replays in my head at work.

I recently had surgery again. I was nervous, not knowing how I would handle surgery after loosing you. The smell and sounds of the surgical center brought back erie feelings. I was calmed as I drifted off to sleep, thinking of and praying that God would give us time together. He did. Danica brought you to see me. You seemed so happy. You looked like you were already a toddler yourself; mirror images of your big brother. It was so short lived though. When I woke up and saw your daddy, I knew you were gone again. My heart ache to see you more.

People try to tell me that everything happens for a reason. I am still trying to figure that out. I do see and understand some things, but deep down inside I want to refuse it. I rather you be here with me than any other 'good' that is supposed to be.

Without you, I wouldn't have certain relationships that I do. now Some are clearer and more appreciated, while others still confuse me. All I ever want is to be loved. Why that never seems to happen no matter how hard I try is beyond me. I just have to keep reminding myself, I can only control myself and not others. For whatever they think or feel, it is not within my means to understand. In time, maybe, in time those that I love will see it and come around to love me back.

I also think about the reality of me ever being able to have more children. After losing you, I am afraid of loving any more. I fear all my love has been claimed for by you and your brother. I fear that I may not be a good mother because I am so angry I have lost you.

I had told someone at work once that I may never be able to get pregnant again anyways. She scolded me by saying "if that were true, you would have had that hysterectomy. You didn't, so you will have another baby". Her philosophy may be right; and of course it should be. She too has lost babies on more than one occasion. My heart aches for her, but I see how happy she is with her beautiful babies that would not have been born had it not been for those that were lost. Her babies now were her "good reason" in life.

Elijah, you brought me closer to people I thought would never love me no matter how hard I tried. You helped me to take down those annoying self-protective walls, if not all the way, at least a little to make it easier to climb over. You made my friendships mean more than just friends; we are sisters. You reminded me that your daddy is not just my husband; he is my best friend. You live everyday within your big brother.

My sweet baby Elijah. I miss you so much.

Love dearly, Your Mommy

The "Funny" Twos

I have always heard about the "terrible twos", but what about "funny" or "endearing"?

My son recently turned two years old on August 31st. Just like last year, he woke up the next day with a very apparent attitude adjustment. Someone had told me once to be proud that my son is very opinionated; it means he is confident in himself. Thank you. That makes me feel like all the hard work pays off. Low self-esteem for my child is just one of my many fears. I hope he never has to struggle with that.

It also justifies the way I, myself, was raised. Respect, polite manners, and structure really are important. Of course with lots of creativity too!

My son is so funny to watch and play with. I find myself acting so childish at times; running around the house, crawling on the floor, and roaring as loud as I can be as I march a toy dinosaur. He just laughs with me. I can only imagine the thought in his head; "silly Mommy".

At times he is very endearing as well. He stops in the middle of a wrestle match to make sure Mommy is okay. "Wowie?", he says as he rubs his hand along my arm to smooth away an owie.

Right now he is on a freezie kick. All he wants to eat are blue freezies. When I reluctantly give in to his pleading wishes and hopeful filled blue eyes, he skips a victory dance around the dining room table. He repeats over and over, "feezie, feezie, feezie". He does the same for juice, only its more like 'deuce'. Too cute!

The other phase he is going through right now is a mommy-only phase. He doesn't want daddy to help with anything. I think Andy may be feeling a little detached. I hope this will pass soon. Although I am enjoying the attention from my little guy.

Last Sunday, a friend of mine from high school did Paighton's 2-year photos. They turned out amazing! I have only seen two pictures so far; I cannot wait for the rest. Here is a sneak peek to awesome cuteness! Later, check out Jill's blog at http://jnicholephotography.wordpress.com/

I am so excited to see what this next year has to bring. I hope we laugh a lot, and hug and kiss even more!

Back to work

This is my last weekend before I have to return to work. I got a little taste of what it would be like to be a stay-at-home mother. Although I enjoyed it very much, it opened my eyes and reminded me of exactly the things I don't want.

There were days I found myself feeling slumped. Usually those were days I still brought my son to daycare. He went because I wanted him to keep somewhat of a normal schedule, yet I didn't bring him everyday. When he isn't with me, I have nothing to do. I become bored, then sad.

When Paighton is with me, we are busy little bees. We have so much fun together. I love taking him out in public; he is so funny to watch. He with blurt out across an aisle at a store to say "hello" to strangers and if you don't acknowledge him, he will continue as he gets louder and louder with each attempt. It's darling. He also does it when we leave, yelling "bye" and waving frantically.

Yesterday I took him to a local splash pad and the county fair. He would hesitantly hold out his hand to touch a stream of watering drizzling out of the side of a giant sprinkler. he would say "cold?" as he looked towards me for approval. I agree. He then turns and runs wildly through it. I love how he is always looking for my approval. Makes me feel like I am doing something right as a mother. He values what I think. I hope he carries forever the same values my husband and I share, especially when it comes to the big important things in life.

At the county fair, I paid $5 for a miniature pony ride for him. He went around the circle once while I walked along side him holding his waist. Then began the tear factory. He lunged towards me and I couldn't keep him up on the pony anymore. The pony began to veer away from me. I just yanked him off and walked out of the carousel area. So much for my $5, but it was worth him having that experience. Hands on experience is more educational than any book or classroom or video. He knew what a duck was when he saw it, and when we were by the pigs he gave his best effort to snort through his nose. He also pointed at the pig and said "nigh nigh". That means "night night"; he sleeps with a plush pig in his crib at night. He got the pig from my girlfriend Rachel for his birthday last year. She was concerned he wouldn't like it because it didn't light up; he LOVES it. He squeezes its tummy and leans his head from side to side as it signs to him about shapes and colors. When we got to the cows, he squatted down and cautiously stuck his hand through the fence to grab the calf's attention. I was squatting with him, but a little back behind him to give him some freedom. He looked back to see if I was still there and swatted his hand towards me and said "go". I laughed so hard. He thinks he is so grown up.

The things I don't want if I were a stay-at-home mom is my son being to dependent on me and not wanting any help from his daddy. The past couple of weeks he doesn't want daddy to get him in or out of the car seat, give him his bath or put him down to bed. Those things my husband always did while I was pregnant with Elijah because I was trying to lessen my activities of heavy lifting. I was always involved in some way, but daddy was the main guy. I wonder if Paighton is trying to compensate for lost time? I can see the sadness and disappointment in my husband. He makes comments like "he doesn't like me" or "he doesn't need me anymore". Other than disagreeing with my husband, I am unsure of other ways to help him see that it is untrue. Paighton just may be going through a phase right now.

That will all change once I go back to work and he is back in daycare full-time again. He will continue going through "phases" all the way up to adulthood. Its just hard to understand and get used to.

I am very excited to get back to work and see good friends I have made over the years. A smile is contagious and I know there are about 400 or more smiles a day at work. That's a lot of smiles! I am also nervous, but that is only natural. I hope I can remember all of the procedures. So much constantly changes within the company everyday, and being gone for so long I may have to start all over. I am exaggerating a little, okay maybe a lot. I have confidence in myself to pick it up easily. Just knowing that I will have lingering thoughts, feelings, events and experiences in the back of my mind, not sure what type of person I am anymore.

I hope I am the same person but only debuting changed qualities that boost my personality for the better; not worse. I want friends, not enemies.

These past ten weeks have been a trial of learning to live a new life. Not necessarily a better life, just different. I have been forced to confront some grudges of people that hurt me in the past and let go. I have been taught how to love differently; more appreciative. My teacher? God.

I have also had more time to ask myself where do I want to be led now? Which direction? Which ever way I choose, there are sacrifices to be had. I want to return to school and finish what I started; double major in Accounting and Finance. The sacrifice would be my family and missing out on my son growing up and changing everyday. I am afraid I will come home when day and not know who he is. The other sacrifice would be no babies until I graduate. Regardless, we have to wait an entire year before trying for another baby. If we don't, I am yet again risking my own life and the life of our unborn child. When I ponder on the facts, I get down. I feel depressed and upset with my situation and having lost my son's life so soon. Then I think, its just a year. It could be worse; the doctors could have performed a hysterectomy instead of an embollization. I still have my uterus. I could be without, but I am not. God blessed me with the ability to try again. My biggest fear about trying a year from now (if we even decide to) is going through all of this again. I had a close call for my life, what if next time I am not so lucky? What if I lose yet another baby?

Again, my mind, the "what-ifs" is my worst enemy.

Hopefully work will numb the chaos in my mind and open new doors for me to grow as a person.