Rainbow of my heart.

My heart is so full.
I love him so much.
Our family finally feels complete.
I am so grateful.

After all the shit I've had to go through, I feel like I've earned this.
I've earned the right to feel as happy as I do.
And I do, truly feel this happy.

I've resisted the urge to post because I know some of you are in the deepest pits still. And it makes me sick to think about how crappy you probably feel. Because I KNOW, I was there. But I wanted to give you hope. You CAN truly feel that unabated happiness again...because I do. And I NEVER thought I'd feel this way again. So therein is the guilt at feeling so happy. Almost manic happiness at times. My hope for all of you is that you get to feel this way again. I wish it with all my heart.

My heart is so full it feels it could burst.

Shadow Children..

The pictures of the shadow children, all grown up to 3 years, especially the girls, just kills me.
I can't look at their pictures without wondering..

Happy Birthday Precious One

Three years ago today I was doped up on Am.bien and epidu.ral.
You came into this world just like your two brothers, except quietly. I initially wanted a c-section. I thought the act of tearing you from my body fitted with how I felt my heart had been ripped out. But the doc knew best and I obliged. There was no labor, no pain. I waited for you to come and when you were ready, I gave two gentle pushes and you were out.
You were beautifully still and strikingly warm.
I saw you and named you Jessica Anne. We dressed you in pink and took turns holding you, saying goodbye to the hopes and dreams we had for you, our daughter, our granddaughter, our niece.
You forever changed my life. Forever changed the course I was on. I swam through the grief, sometimes almost drowning until the path was clear and I came up for air.
Your life and death has purpose.
And although the world forgets, I will not. You memory lives on inside my heart, locked and timeless with emotion.
Happy birthday precious one.





One year ago today, little G was conceived. My hope was tentative, but renewed. And now you bring joy to my life every day.

She died today.

I looked through her things on the shelf.
I saw her footprints, her hair locks, her pictures.
I saw that she was.
And I cried because I almost didn't believe it was real.

Mo.ther's day.

I finally have a chance to think about tomorrow and it's freaking me out.
I can't wrap my head around it.
I can't celebrate Mo.ther's Day. For me, it is the day that everyone forgets. We only recognize the ones who have living kids. They forget that Mother's Day 3 years ago I was birthing my dead daughter. I can't be around anyone who won't acknowledge what this day means to me.
Forgetting is the worst.
Traditionally, the actual day anniversary (wednesday this year) is not as bad as Mother's Day.
She died on her due date, I birthed her on Mo.ther's day. Is this a mere coincidence, or is there meaning in these events?
Right now, it feels like a cruel trick. I love being a mother, but can't celebrate Mother's Day

I can't imagine a three year old girl....I can't.

Memories..

My first born, A, turned five yesterday. We had the big party, the big event. When I had a few moments to go upstairs to nurse little G, I started to cry. I can't think about A's birthday without thinking about being pregnant with J. That was the last big event I went to. I remember feeling huge, hot, but sitting on the grass contemplating what it would be like with my two children; one boy and one girl. I was so close, so peaceful about the prospect of going into labor at any moment. I hope one year, A will have a birthday that won't be tinged with sadness and longing.

Mother's Day is next weekend and while it comes early this year, I can't think about Mother's Day without thinking about how three years ago on Mother's Day, I was birthing my dead daughter. I was in shock, in disbelief, in sadness. I came home defeated. Mother's day cards went unopened that year (I found them one year still in a bag, unsigned). There was no brunch, or little gifts, or flowers. There was just grief, and emptiness. For Mother's Day I got to hold my still daughter and acquired a fat hole in my heart. When asked what her name was, the name we had picked just didn't fit. I blurted out Jessica Anne- not a name I had even considered. Only when I got home, I looked up the meaning; "He sees grace" I will forever wonder if her death was 'grace'.
Mother's Day will never be the same.

The anniversary is coming up. The month of May is filled with happiness and sadness. I am allowing myself some time to reflect and feel the sadness I haven't felt in so long.