I used to count down to my birthday starting around like 130 days, whenever I got to 90 Days I just felt like celebrating. That means I have exactly 3 months until this baby is due. I have since found other things to celebrate, like...say...the birth of my youngest child. It's so fun to be excited about his coming. I can't tell you how different this pregnancy and the last one was. Instead of dreading D-day, instead I think about it all the time. I've been washing a few more newborn-3 month clothes and just ooing and Aahing about how small they are, imagining Bentley's tiny duplicate wearing each one. AH! 90 days.
In the next 90 days....
It will be summer
Strawberries should become dirt cheap
Bentley will go play at the city splash pad
Rocwell will have a birthday
Brooklyn will have a birthday
Jacob's contracts will be well under way---Jacob may even do his presentation for the cancer society of BYU--possibly finish his prospectus (graduation plan, essentially)
Baby Addison will be born
We will celebrate the end of Brooklyn's mission here on earth
Brittney, Melynda, Grandma Bonnie, Sookie, Wookie, Nader, and Lexi will all come to visit.
I will eat Sushi at least once. Although, probably not all you can eat since Jacob JR will be so big.
Several of my friends will become mommies for the first time
I will finish DR. Who Season 7 and probably Psych Season 8
Maybe see one more movie in the theater
Go to the temple two handfuls more
I'm sure at some point I will eat some cake
See the doctor like 5 more times
AND THEN I WILL HAVE ANOTHER BABY!!! #3
There is absolutely nothing sweeter in pregnancy than feeling his little kicks. They make me so happy I feel like shedding a tear.
The one who stopped writing. I know what you must be thinking. My life is just too exciting and full of things to do to write one more word on this blog. Truth is, I just didn't think I had anything worth saying. I do, however, want to voice some more thoughts. I hate to bore people with these musings, but you, who are still reading, you want to hear what I have to say, so I will share.
Today I read of a little baby named Kate. Kate was born with a bad liver. After two liver transplants and a furious uphill battle she passed away. She was looking so good too! I was rooting for that little baby. I was a little shocked to see her mother update facebook with a picture of her--I think it was a post mortem picture. A thing so sacred doesn't belong on facebook--but she wanted to share with everyone the death of her sweet baby whom she loves so much. I get it. When I saw it, it was such a shock and yet, such a futile shock that I couldn't help but feel helpless. Another little baby gone. It reminded me of when we found our little Brooklyn. As far as we knew she was doing SO well. Everyone said so. She seemed to be conquering her condition every day and then, rather suddenly she never woke up one morning.
I was so surprised I really didn't know what to do with myself. I talked and laughed and admired my sweet baby while waiting for the hospice team to come and declare her dead. After awhile it finally set in that she was dead. And then I cried. I was so happy she didn't have to suffer, but...now what? I held her until the mortuary came, and then I had to leave the room while they took my little girl and loaded her in the morticians van to take her away.
It was so surreal.
The hospice team came and took all the equipment.
And just like that we were husband, wife, and son. It took me a few weeks to get her blankets and clothing packed up, to put the pack n' play away. I was forever finding the syringes that we used to feed her.
I am grateful, that I had not taken her to the doctor that week. As I think about it, my first supposition that the doctor's office would be unsafe for her and an unnecessary risk, was most likely correct. And if they were to take her vital signs and tell me that she was dying, I think I would have truly suffered that week for want of knowing when she would go. I had some inklings that something was wrong. She was irritable and crying, unable to go back to sleep at night. Hard to console.
My friend had triplets two weeks ago. They all have NG tubes to feed them with. That also reminded me of my sweet Brooklyn. And one of the babies is about the same size as my Brooklyn. I am shocked at the visceral memories I have when I look at those babies. Holding my tiny baby, playing with her feet, opening her hands so she could stretch. Hearing her mewling cry when she would get upset. Her little eyes, the only indication of mental retardation. And all that thick brown hair.
Her birthday is coming up. :)
Two months later, her younger brother will be born.
He is lively and kicks often, it brings me great joy and remembrance. I know that I will hold my Brooklyn again, just as I will soon hold her little brother. I think that will be disconcerting to my eldest Son. What will he think when I bring home a different baby? He seems to be expecting that Brooklyn will come home. Not for awhile. Not for a good, long, while.
I am grateful I am having another son. I would hate for the next daughter I have to feel like she is a replacement for my sweet, angelic daughter Brooklyn. That is an unfair shadow to cast. I am looking forward to having another son. I know girls are angels, they are so sweet, but my first born has brought me so much joy. So much love. So much healing.
Thank heaven for little boys.
I guess I could say that I am missing my little baby. It's hard not to when there are so many babies being born right now and here I am bereft of one baby. Anticipating another I will not see for 3 1/2 months.
Time, go quickly, and yet, slow down. I am not ready to shake my first born's world again....but I am ready to hold my 3rd born child.
Through all this, I hope you all know that I still trust in God. He is my strength. He is my song. His Son has made it possible for me to pass through this fiery trial every day. I love and honor them. And my gratitude has no bounds.
Keep the faith.
God is mindful of you.
Jesus Christ knows all your pains and sorrows. Trust in him.
