I am tired of having bad dreams. I am tired of waiting for something bad to happen. I am tired of not sleeping for fear I won't know if the baby has died. I am tired of my constant friend...anxiety. I am tired. Sometimes I think 8-8 1/2 weeks isn't that long...we are not ready for what comes next! Other times I wish time was up and we would know what was in store for us. Can't I just be monitored 24 hours a day? I know I'd grow tired of that too. I use prayer to help me when I am feeling in despair and my prayers will be answered by a kick. Those kicks are great. They are comforting but Beckett was a big kicker and mover and he did not make it. There is no good answer...just patience and prayer at this point. My patience is definitely wearing thin. (I believe God threw me a bone when Grace started pooping on the potty...he knew I could only take so much before turning into dragon lady).


Cory and I talked about the October 4th...what will we do? It certainly is not a day to celebrate in my opinion. It was the worst day of our life. I won't need to sit there at his grave and remember that day and the events leading up to finding out his heart was no longer beating. Those thoughts run through my mind each and every single day sometimes 3 to 4 times. I remember crying alone in the operating room leaning on a sweet nurse while I got my spinal. I was scared out of my mind. Terrified of what was to come next. I remember getting sick and the anestitist trying to help me. I remember the defining silence as they pulled our baby from me...the lack of crying...the silence. The announcement "Congratulations, it is a perfect little boy!" The indescribable ripping of our hearts. There we sat broken. Wanting to wake up from this horrific nightmare. I remember them presenting that beautiful, still face to us. I could barely see through all of the tears. I remember going back to my room and digging down as deep as I have ever had to to hold our forever sleeping baby. The pain indescribable. The pain...unbearable. I relive those moments every day. I don't need a certain day to expose those feelings and memories. They are always there. SO, I don't know what we will do. I bought some flowers to bring there. We will probably release some balloons to the heavens just as we did on the day we buried him and on his due date. It seems a little lame to me but what else do you do?


On a lighter note...the kids are loving school. Holden says he has the best teacher in the whole world. He really enjoys her. He thought there was going to be a substitute teacher one day so he thought he would stay home sick. I am really happy for him. Liking your teacher can make a big difference.


Grace loves preschool so far too. She goes every afternoon for 2 1/2 hours. She asks all morning when it is time to leave for school. It certainly is different to have that time to myself. Although, I thought that sounded like a lot of time for me to get things accomplished, but it goes by very quickly! But it is great to run those little errands that I put off when the kids are with. It is also pretty fun to be able to go out to lunch with friends or my husband. It has been 4 years since I have been able to do that:) Grace attends a christian based school so they learn lots of stuff about the bible and Jesus. Cory told me she told him that when we sin we get a black heart but if we don't sin our hearts stay pink. She thinks she is sinning when she wets her pants. Cory corrected her and said that was not sinning. I think maybe we should go with the guilt:)! I know we all grew up with plenty of 'Catholic guilt":) Not necessarily all from mom and dad...the nuns and teachers at school used it on a daily basis:)


I have an ultrasound this week Wednesday. I am flying solo on this one so I hope there is nothing but good news. I am hoping for a 15% baby. I hope to walk out of there with a little extra hop in my step. Seeing our baby provides us with some reassurance...even if it is short lived. That hour is amazing.