A Life is a Life from the Start

When does life begin? I know many have debated this issue and I won’t be the one to settle it here. Yet I feel inclined in my late night insomnia induced pondering to share my two cents.

Conception. No doubt about it. That moment when a very persistent sperm meets the specific egg that was dropped at that exact time of the month is the instant life begins. Yup, as soon as I read the plus sign on my pregnancy test I knew I was a mom. Ask any woman when she finds out she is pregnant and I think she will tell you the same thing. Of course it takes many more months to form a healthy, viable baby, but from the very start we already assume full responsibility for the care and growth of that baby in our womb.

Physically, some women go through many difficult challenges in their pregnancy journey (infertility, IVF, cerclage, bedrest, progesterone shots, c sections, and so many other serious medical issues) while others have less complicated pregnancies yet still also experience many of the same changes having to adjust their eating and drinking habits, take prenatals, go to countless doctors appointments and deliver (no small feats). Of course every mother equally sacrifices their bodies as they grow a tiny human inside their womb. Pretty sure we all in the final uncomfortable months wonder how we can possibly expand any further as our skin is stretched to the limit and we can’t even fathom there is any more room left inside for the baby to grow more. Yet somehow we do, and somehow that baby continues to grow and form until it’s time for that precious child to meet the world.

Emotionally, from the moment they conceive, hopeful parents prepare for their baby’s arrival and envision who that baby will become. A mother and father’s bond and love for that baby often grows exponentially along with every cell of its body. From the week to week updates on the apps or websites we check and the doctor visits where we can physically see the baby on ultrasounds, we know those little growing cells are alive and creating a being from day 1. But more importantly in our hearts that child has already taken his or her position in our family as our child and that will never change no matter what happens on the long road ahead.

I know there are those who will still debate this issue scientifically or rationally noting that at that first moment we can’t claim there is a living baby inside of a mother yet. I imagine these people have never been pregnant before themselves. I find myself hard pressed to believe that anyone who has carried a child and/or witnessed the miracle of creation for themselves as a father would be of the opinion that the mother wasn’t carrying a life, granted in its beginning stages, when they first got pregnant. While I don’t advise anyone to get pregnant just to see what I mean, I feel I can safely wager that if they did they would have to agree. You can’t experience the process of reproduction and watch your baby grow, develop likes and dislikes, flutter, kick, and turn in habitual and distinctive ways, without realizing that this very tiny being is becoming a unique person with each passing day and soon, if you’re lucky enough to get to participate in the miracle of birth, your awe will overtake any doubt as you behold that tiny, perfect little person and ask, “Wow, you were in there all along”? Yet somehow you have an instinctive sense of knowing that very child was in fact in there, growing inside of you, becoming who this child was made to be, and bonding with you from that very first second. If, I pray, when, your little one looks back up at you with their eyes full of wonder and you have the great fortune of seeing them continue to form and evolve as they get older, I am certain you’ll have no way of disagreeing that from the very start your child was alive and every moment of that life is a true blessing.

This isn’t a political debate, there is no hidden agenda or religious belief being pushed on anyone. Just the truth in my heart that I wanted to share with the universe tonight as a mother of five: one in heaven, two in my arms, and two more in the stars (though they only formed in my womb for less than two months each they are also a part of our forever family).

Owen, Jordan and Avery, I love you all just as much as your siblings on Earth. 💙

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Indifference or Apathy Towards Loss; It’s Time to Talk

Lately my expression of grief has been lingering in the anger phase more than usual. Probably because all my emotions of frustration and anger regarding the loss resurface every time we celebrate our son’s “birth” day (October 3rd). I inadvertently return to that earlier stage of trying to make sense of why we lost him and who was at fault. It’s an extremely lonely and depressing place to be, but I can’t escape it, it keeps me up at night and tortures my mind endlessly. Couple that with the perceived indifference or apathy that I feel others have toward our loss, especially now three years later, it’s a dark and alienating feeling I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

Clearly no one would dare say anything suggesting we move on or that they don’t see why I’m still grieving, but it’s what they don’t say. The difficult moments when I or my husband decide to tell someone we lost a son don’t happen as often as before. But when we do, especially when he shares our loss story (because he doesn’t express his grief as much as I do so when he opens up about our son I know it took a lot), I would expect that the person listening could offer their condolences. It doesn’t have to be a lengthy conversation, but a simple “I’m sorry for your loss” would be much less cruel than silence and a change of topic. Why is it that people skirt passed uncomfortable conversations about grief? I guess maybe they think if they talk about the loss then we’ll be reminded and somehow hurt more? I know it’s hard to go there and feel empathy for someone when they’ve experienced the unspeakable and some people are surprised by the shocking, sudden knowledge that we lost a baby so they just don’t know what to say. But coming from a loss mom, if you don’t know how to react just say whatever you can come up with: “I’m sorry”, “That must be so hard”, “I am here for you”, “Can you tell me about him?”, anything, just don’t stay quiet please. It breaks our hearts our child is no longer here and your avoidance of talking about him doesn’t help. If anything it dishonors his memory and makes us feel even more alone.

And since social media is where many interactions take place these days, if you see a post about a person’s loss, please don’t “Like” it or nod and keep on scrolling. And if you planned on just tapping the sad faced emoji (😢), reconsider and kindly take a moment to write out a sentence. Again it can be brief, but it means so much if you acknowledge our pain with a few words. I hope my advice doesn’t come off preachy, but I’ve experienced this enough times in three years and I know people mean well, so I’ve decided to share my feelings to tell others who want to be there for us and anyone else who lost a child that it’s okay to talk about our babies. We crave hearing their name and knowing you still care.

If you’re a loss parent reading this and you feel alone, you aren’t. I’m sorry we are here in this unfortunate club together, but I am glad that we can offer each other support knowing exactly what one another is going through. I will always be honored to hear about your child and grieve them with you. Please tell me about them. Comment with your baby’s name and story below, share my post, and let’s keep talking and honoring their little lives. I miss my son, Owen, just as much yesterday, today and always. It is still so hard, but on the good days something or someone reminds me of him and I can smile because he is mine and I am his forever. 🦋

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A Sweet Rainbow Baby Sprinkle For My High Risk Pregnancy After Loss

Our sprinkle last weekend was everything I dreamt of and more! So many of our close family and friends were able to make it and all the meaningful little details I wanted to include came out perfectly. I made a lot of the signage and crocheted decor pieces (including the favor candles) in my spare time while on bedrest. The day of I had so much help from my sisters (who also did all the shopping), hubby (who not only was my set up Superman and a wonderful party host but also customized an antique door for me for decor), Mom and MIL (both also took turns staying with us for weeks to take care of us during my bedrest), Dad, brother, SIL, and friends who all worked together on the food and setup, so I actually didn’t feel like I was too overwhelmed. Special shout out and thank you to my super detailed friend Mayla who always makes me feel so at ease at my events because I know she’ll get everything done with style and who loaned us her custom-made donut wall, cocktail tables, chairs and platters plus made the delicious Wisconsin cheese platter! And thank you to Kathrin for all her items she offered to let us borrow to make our party pretty and for those yummy rainbow pretzel sticks her sister made! Of course I’m so thankful to have my sisters who helped and encouraged me throughout the planning to have this sprinkle and came a long way (from Florida and San Jose) to help make my dream party come true. I’m so glad I didn’t let the fear of another loss keep me from enjoying this moment in our rainbow pregnancy. 

My heart is overjoyed knowing how much Jax is loved already. We requested diapers only since we have many of our daughter’s baby items saved but still got a lot of cute and useful gifts on top of plenty of diapers to start us off! Seeing all of Jackson’s gifts also really helped me visualize our son coming home. Now that we are 26 weeks I feel better knowing Jax is viable and each day that passes, as we continue to fight IC, we are getting closer to delivering a healthy baby. I am beyond thankful to God for this new life that I’m carrying and feel blessed to be this far along, experiencing Jackson’s strong kicks and summersaults, and being able to let myself dream about his arrival.

Beside documenting this special day, I wanted to share my experience on my blog in case any other PAL moms and dads are trying to decide if you want to have a shower. I think it’s a beautiful occasion and every baby deserves to be celebrated, but I understand the anxiety too. My husband wasn’t as sure about doing it because he’s concerned still with our experience of a 32 week loss, but was supportive of my desire to have the sprinkle despite his valid fears. We didn’t have a shower for our angel thinking we had enough hand-me-downs and we’d do something to celebrate him after he was born, but we didn’t get to, so I felt it was important to have one for our next, and possibly last, baby. After enduring 5 pregnancies in 6 years and three losses, I truly think we deserve to be celebrated too and for at least one day allow ourselves to be excited for this miracle we are still getting to see grow and will hopefully get to raise. Who else had a shower for their rainbows? Were you happy that you did it? Let me know how you celebrated! 🌈💕

​We are so thankful for all the thoughtful gifts we received for Jax, but this one was beyond special so I just have to point it out. I cried when I first saw it. My sister had made a blanket for our angel Owen with the other piece of the same fabric and we laid him to rest wrapped in it. So my heart is just so overwhelmed with emotions knowing our rainbow was gifted this blanket from my sister and mom (who sewed this one). 💕 Our son Jackson is due on his big brother’s birthday so we always felt that he was handpicked for Earth by Owen for us. We couldn’t be more excited to meet him!

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Another Rollercoaster Appointment for our Rainbow Baby: 24 Week Scan, 4 weeks Post Cerclage

6/14/17

We had our 24 week appointment today. That’s right, we made it to the first viability milestone! Baby Jax is doing well, praise the Lord! He’s measuring on track, 1.7 lbs. My cervix is holding up and a little longer now too (3.3 cm), so bedrest is working. That was such a stressful ultrasound though! My High Risk OB was measuring Jax’s brain area so many times (turns out whatever it was is still within normal limits) and was just super quiet the entire scan (as is his usual professional style). I was having a panic attack waiting for him to finish the ultrasound. I could literally feel my heart beating out of my chest as I gripped my husband’s arm! I was definitely worried and scared that we were planning for our Sprinkle this month and buying stuff for Jax, and something could be wrong. Of course more than all that, we would be devastated if anything happened to him because we love him so much already. But thank God he’s keeping our little boy healthy and growing well.

I was a mess after, asking my OB if Jax was ok and if everything looked fine (tears and all). Luckily he has compassion for me and when I asked if we can start doing NST’s (Non Stress Tests to monitor baby’s heartbeat at the hospital) early he said he would do that for me if it’ll help me feel better. He asked “how early, 30 weeks”, and I requested “how about 28, because we lost our son at 32 and I want to know if they see any changes in Jax’s patterns”. So he said ok. He also noted that right now my anxiety is at an orange level and by that time it’ll be more like red level, but he assured me that everything is ok. I was so emotional because we still don’t know what caused the loss of our other son in the last trimester, but my OB said most likely it was a cord accident, a 1/9,000 thing and it just happened to us. To which I replied that that’s why I’m still scared because I know Jax is fine now, but anything can happen. So hopefully by having the NST’s done earlier I can get a little reassurance though I know I’ll be a wreck during and after them until Jax is born! I just kept praying during the ultrasound asking God to please make Jax perfect and to help rid me of my fears. This pregnancy is just so tough but I’m trying my best to be all in and not be afraid of another loss. Despite the heartache and stress, I am so thankful to be at this stage carrying a healthy baby boy and I am doing everything I can to be in the moment, bond with Jax and enjoy feeling his kicks.

Lesson learned this week, always ask for what you need. I’m still coming down from my emotional rollercoaster, but feeling more at ease now that my OB agreed to earlier NST’s. Hopefully the next appointment in little over two weeks will be another good one, but as always we just have to take this pregnancy one moment at a time.

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A Little Easier, But Just as Heartbreaking

April 1, 2017

Had a hard night. Just looking through old photos on my phone to try to delete some and make some memory space. I was looking at the days before losing our son. How naively happy we all were. Then all of a sudden, complete and utter heartbreak and unimaginable sadness. I didn’t know this could happen during a perfectly normal pregnancy. I wish I could go back and tell myself that day we lost our son to take a trip to the hospital earlier just to check on him, but I had no warning signs until that night when Owen stopped moving. Why did we have to go through this? Why did we lose our strong, sweet boy?? Being pregnant with another rainbow still doesn’t make me feel any better. If anything I am more saddened that we lost a perfect baby and we have no promises that this time will be different. All this aside, I am very thankful that I’m alive and have a chance to be a mother again to a son who I know I will love as much as Owen. Just wish things would’ve been different and he could be here too. 

June 14, 2017

My new purpose since our loss is to spread awareness about kick counting and trusting your intuition in your pregnancy. Don’t take no for an answer if you feel that something is wrong. Be the annoying patient that calls or goes in whenever you feel something’s off. Always push for the extra tests and scans you need to feel at ease. Worst case scenario they find something wrong and you can try to save your baby or yourself. But hopefully everything is fine and you can go back to being blissful and excited about the miracle growing inside of you. All I want is for you to be able to bring home a healthy baby, so I don’t recommend putting blind faith in your medical team. They can be busy, overwhelmed with clients and confined to what they can offer through routine healthcare based on the rates insurance companies pay them, so it’s up to you to be your own advocate and more importantly to be your unborn baby’s voice. I don’t know if any of what I’m saying would have saved my baby boy, but I feel in my heart that it could help you. Please try not to stress, but be an active participant in your prenatal care. I pray that you will have no complications and enjoy every second of this miraculous process. And please, if you have a healthy baby at the end, know how blessed you truly are and treasure that little life!

Praying for all of you and cheering on every mom out there fighting for their baby’s survival through a high risk pregnancy. You are my sisters and my heroes.

-Ana

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Missing You Still

Sometimes others have better ways of communicating how we feel. The documentary “Jacob” by Shawn Lovering did just that for me today. Watching the imagery of a mother walking aimlessly, searching for her son who also wanders alone through golden fields captures my heart’s constant search for my little boy as the days go by. Nothing about time helps to end our grief. Where there was love there will always be a feeling of loss and an aching urge to see them again. Especially with it being a year after our son’s original due date, I can tell you that some days it may get easier to live with the weight of that sorrow but it never truly goes away. Thinking of my sweet boy Owen, today, and always. 💙 

You can watch Shawn Lovering’s short but meaningful documentary here: Jacob

And while you’re here, could you please help us with these issues that are so important to grieving parents by signing this petition created by another angel mom? It takes only a second & means so much to us. Thank you! Click, sign & share: Petition to protect viable fetus rights

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Acceptance & Forgiveness

Almost a year baby boy. Can’t believe how much we have endured in such a short amount of time. I feel like I’ve aged so much more than a year. Pretty sure I look like I have physically, with all the tears that have continued to swell out of my eyes and the crop of new, spiteful little grey hairs that have sprouted from the constant stress. But emotionally I notice the changes even more. It makes sense, I’ve carried the burden of your loss daily for over ten months now. Sometimes the load feels heavier, the pain sharper. Other days, my heart is lighter, more focused on the present. But it’s always there, making itself comfortable in the complex fabric of this messy, imperfect, yet still beautiful life.

Being your mom and having held you are of course counted as great blessings. I know I am lucky to have experienced your life for 7 months inside of me and that we were able to meet you, even if it was tragically after you had passed away. Is it greedy to wish for more? Some women don’t get this far in their pregnancies. I know this. I’ve lived this (and sadly witnessed it too). How heartbroken I have been, losing two pregnancies in their early stages before and after losing you. 

The first, before you, was our sweet baby Jordan who slipped away quickly and with the least physical pain. Still, I cried inconsolably over the weekend after bleeding more than I thought a person could. Having an ultrasound the next Monday to be told the baby was gone was just standard practice. We already knew. We silently mourned the baby we wouldn’t get to raise or see grow up alongside our daughter and waited to be able to try again. Back then I knew miscarriage was the loss of a child, but I let the doctors convince me that the baby was just a few cells. They didn’t care if I flushed the baby down the toilet or named him or her. They didn’t want me to bring anything in for testing (doctors won’t help look into causes of miscarriage until after three losses) and we didn’t know what to do with the little bit of tissue we saw floating down the toilet along with all that blood. So much blood. I still have nightmares, a deeply rooted fear of seeing blood when I pee, and I even wake up from sleep every so often with a strange sensation like I’m miscarrying again. Now I regret that we didn’t honor that baby’s life more back then and after losing you we decided to give our much loved and wanted baby a name, Jordan. (Jordan, I’m sorry for everything we did or didn’t do for you while you were here. You know you meant the world to me and daddy and we love you like all our other children. You will be in our memories and hearts forever.)

Our other little angel, Avery, clung to me for several weeks after we were told the pregnancy wasn’t viable (the baby stopped growing at 6 weeks, but we didn’t find out until our first scan at 8 weeks). What a devastating moment. After losing you too, I allowed myself to believe that surely this time everything had to be ok. I prayed so hard (to God, Jesus, Mary, the Saints of pregnant women, anyone who I could think of) for this pregnancy to be healthy, to finally have a sibling for your sister to grow up with. Our dreams were again shattered. At first I hoped and prayed that maybe the doctor was wrong. Not likely with this doctor, he’s the best high risk doctor there is. Yet, I waited anxiously, fearfully, and yes, hopefully, until the day the painful experience of miscarrying Avery began. Nothing happened for over four weeks, so I never expected it would be that physically painful. I called the nurse at my doctor’s office panicking, asking if I should rush to them or the ER. No, she confirmed, labor type contractions are to be expected. Over-the-counter drugs did nothing to curb the immense pain. The only thing that I could think other than, God please let this be over soon, was thank you God for allowing me to continue to miscarry our baby naturally. I didn’t want to have to have a D&C. I just couldn’t bare the idea of having another baby ripped out from my womb and I hope to be pregnant again one day, God-willing, so I didn’t want to risk having my uterus scarred at all. Of course being put under for a procedure scares the life out of me too. The last time I was put under, I woke up to the devastating news that you were gone. 

How could that have happened??? I’m still in total shock baby. I’ve fought depression like a fierce warrior with therapy, prayer, and of course, love and support from your daddy, your big sister and our family and close friends. I’m still fighting that battle. I can’t allow myself to be broken, lost, forever damaged by your death. I still need to be a mother to your sister, a wife to your amazing daddy, and keep living for them and everyone else who loves me. But it’d be a lie to say I feel better. No, I’m still devastated. Heartbroken. Traumatized. Angry. 

Without the truth and justice, how could there be peace in my heart? God teaches us to forgive even those who have hurt us most. Those who don’t admit their wrong or offer an apology. Ok, you got me. I’m not sure I can do it, but I’ll try baby. Not for them. Not even really for me. I do it for you. For you and your siblings, my love, because I need to be able to join you all one day in Heaven. I know I have to accept this new reality even if I don’t understand it or think it’s right. What happened to you, to us. But in order to get to that place where you are, I have to learn to forgive. It’s not easy, but I promise I’m trying.

Still, my heart breaks every time I read your medical records. Relive that day. Discover mistakes. Tell your story. So I haven’t quite yet given up on getting to the truth. How could I? You were our sweet, healthy, perfect baby boy. The apple of our eye and daddy’s spitting image. Those dimples, your curved little toes, just like him. No I haven’t forgotten you. And I won’t let anyone else. I promise. Even if that makes them uncomfortable. Even if I lose their friendship. Who cares. You are more precious to me than a friend who doesn’t want to hear about what I’m going through. That’s not really a friend is it? It’s okay. I still have plenty of real ones and have made new ones too. Even some that are pregnant or had babies recently and still manage to sincerely feel empathy for us without letting their own fears keep them from being there for me. This experience of loss has taught me both who and what is worth my time as well as who I am important to. In the end, we owe it to ourselves to spend our time with only those who matter most to us because life is short. I have you to thank for that very clear perspective. 

You, my little one, will always be in my ever present thoughts, be they of love, joy, gratitude, sadness, despair, frustration, fear, anger, isolation, anxiety, resentment or, in time, forgiveness. I may have to accept you are in Heaven, far away from my embrace, but I will always miss you and long to see you again Owen (my how I love to hear, speak and see your name, I wish that would be more often). For you I fight, our Little Warrior. I’ll be your voice and until there is change in prenatal healthcare, in the value of unborn babies’ lives, and in the stigma and silence of the loss community, I won’t just “move on”. Two words that should never be said to a bereaved parent, or anyone else for that matter. You’ve awakened me to a greater purpose. I wish it didn’t take losing you, Jordan, and Avery to do so, but I know now what God is asking of me. But better late than never right? 

Owen, I know you are happy where you are and though you may see me cry, sometimes even collapse under the weight of it all, don’t worry. I know God is with me even when I feel completely alone. He will help direct my steps. I won’t ever lose sight of His love or the blessings He continues to shower us with, even in this our darkest hour. Love always outshines every other emotion. But we have to allow ourselves to feel, even if that means being hurt. Never forget Owen, your mommy may be desperately sad that you left us, but I will always be happy that you are our son. I know you’re probably learning to stand and take your first steps in Heaven (because your cousin your age is doing that too down here). How I wish we could be there to catch you and cheer you on, but we are so proud of you and look forward to seeing everything you can do one day. Sending so many hugs and kisses up to you, Jordan and Avery. Good night our little angels.

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Hope & Love

Red, bright red
Goodbye rings in my head
Red, white & blue
Happy 4th to you

Pain, real & deep
A life I couldn’t keep
Freedom from fear 
Hope & love live here
 

For our sweet Avery. You had only 6 short weeks of life in my womb yet we love you as much as the stars love the night sky. This pregnancy after losing Owen (& Jordan before him) was so bright & full of hope; I am thankful for every second that I got to carry you. Goodbye is just so long for now; I know we’ll be reunited in Heaven one day. 

Missing You & Loving You Always, Your Mommy

“If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together, keep me in your heart, I’ll stay there forever” – Winnie the Pooh

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Goodbye Avery, Our Little Firecracker

It’s midnight, July 4th. Somehow I knew today could be the day I started cramping. My babies like to choose special days for their big moments. 

Naomi, after 18 months without one prior attempt to walk chose to start on New Years Eve. Unfortunately I was working and missed her first steps, but we all thought she surely chose the day to make it extra special. Whenever we countdown to the start of another year, I still reminisce about that day and what a blessing it is to see how much she has grown since then. Raising you, our sweet girl, is our greatest privelage and watching you reach new milestones keeps us amazed at how perfectly God made you. You give us so much happiness and we are so proud to be your parents.

We sadly miscarried our next baby, Jordan, the week of my best friend Toni’s birthday. Though the pregnancy didn’t last long, we had so much joy in those few weeks with Jordan, so it seems fitting that our beloved baby’s Angelversary week is shared with my most effervescent and impassioned friend. Knowing Toni, her birthday week will always be an exciting and fun-filled time. I’ll always picture Jordan dancing in the clouds amongst the twinkling lights of the night sky when Tia Toni is out partying on her birthday. Jordan, you were our very much wanted second child and we wish you could’ve stayed with us. But keep dancing my baby, we will join you one day. 

Then, attempting to save him, at almost 32 weeks gestation we had to deliver our son Owen via a crash/emergency C-section on one of his Grandpa’s birthdays. We would never forget the day he was born and went to Heaven, but sharing Grandpa Vick’s birthday makes this day even more special. My birthday is the day after my dad’s and we always loved celebrating it together, so it makes me happy to know that when we celebrate Grandpa Vick, we are also celebrating our sweet angel Owen. We miss you dearly baby boy and when Grandpa blows out his candles, we’ll remember the light you brought to our lives; Much too brief but still so incredibly bright and beautiful. 

And now we’ve been waiting for two agonizing weeks since we found out our baby Avery had stopped growing at our first ultrasound. We were shocked and heartbroken to be told that we were having a missed miscarriage, but I was determined to avoid a D&C or medication to end the pregnancy. I hadn’t had any cramping or bleeding though, so I was getting anxious it might never happen naturally. But of course Avery waited for the 4th of July to start letting go of mommy. Sitting on the toilet waiting to pass clots with extreme cramps and a heat pad on my abdomen isn’t really my idea of July 4th fun. But then again, this wouldn’t be my baby if it was an ordinary day. 

You think it’s because my babies know I have the worst memory ever? No, I would never forget your special days my precious children. But it makes me smile to think that they know their momma and are just trying to help me remember. Each of their days carries so much emotion and I know that though others are celebrating and thinking about the typical meaning behind these days, I’m focused on my babies and what it means to us. 

The Fourth of July is a day I’ll always love and cherish; Not just because it commemorates our freedom, but now also because it marks the day Avery finally decided it was ok to physically leave his Earthly home and continue to rest in peace in Heaven. I cherish the memories we made with you: Surprising Daddy with a “bun in the oven” and seeing his thrilled reaction, taking bump pictures in a new dress I bought for that purpose, watching Naomi and Daddy joyfully give you sweet kisses and talk to you through my belly though you were probably still too small to hear them, and even writing about you in a cute pregnancy journal, trying not to let my anxiety overshadow my excitement. We’ll see you one day our little firecracker and will remember you always, especially at the explosion of every firework. Just like them, your stay was short but oh so brilliant and marvelous. 

Until we see you in Heaven, Avery, keep shining bright with your siblings, Owen and Jordan. We love you all as much as we love your sister Naomi who brightens up our darkest days and brings light to every moment of our lives.

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Forever Yours

Days go by,
Further from goodbye
Closer to hello
Never letting go

Memories of you
Tiny, precious, true
Nothing more real
Gone yet present still

Speak, breath, grow
A son I didn’t get to know
So much to learn, see, do
So little shared with you

From the first hello
My heart you stole
To the last goodbye
I never understood why

Your purpose is greater
Trusting in our Creator
Until we meet again
Your momma till the end

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