Tuesday May 28, 2013
Hello Shelby and Dalton,
Today seems terribly long, for tomorrow is the day we find out if our latest attempts at IVF were successful, resulting in me being pregnant again. I am trying to practice patience, something at which I'm horrible, and something I feel you understand, as you were so very impatient with your Week 24 arrival.... Of course, as Daddy is fond of saying, we have forever lost our blissful ignorance, so even if we get a positive report, we are far removed from any giant celebrations, as there will be such a long road ahead. We know so many things could go wrong, obviously. I will try not to dwell on those things right now, because I am trying to do like your Daddy says and be positive. Unfortunately, I am a natural pessimist and my mind always wanders to the worst scenarios. This trait was made even more prominent because during your far too short lives with us, each time we heard something positive, within 24 hours, our worlds ended.
Terrified is again the theme of the day. I'm terrified that I will start bleeding, I'm terrified that the headache and the cramps I've been feeling today are indicative of the start of my period. I'm terrified with each cough that I am tearing something asunder within my uterus. I'm terrified that we are not pregnant. I'm terrified that we are pregnant, again with multiples, which increases our risks of pre-term labor even further.
It's so different from when we first underwent IVF. Back then, we fell in to the blissfully ignorant category. I vowed that I would never be one of those women who obsessed over getting pregnant, who charted body temperatures, overanalyzed every minute measurement and freaked out if not pregnant. Oh, no, I was above all of that nonsense. To paraphrase one of my childhood idols, Suzanne Sugarbaker "If I ever did decide to have children, I would do it with a minimum of fuss and muss." - yes indeed, that was MY attitude. Well, the general concept of IVF ensures that conception will not be achieved with a minimum of fuss and muss. But, even in the waiting period prior to finding out we were pregnant with you, I was rather cavalier, thinking "Well, either this works or it doesn't." I had it in my head that we would give it one shot, and que sera sera..... Then, IT WORKED! I was shocked, as I'd heard many horror stories of women or couples having to try IVF 5, 6, 7 times or more to achieve a successful pregnancy. With us, one attempt and bam, we were pregnant. Then, we found out we were pregnant with twins, even better! I would break the long line of only children, but only have 1 pregnancy. I figured I wouldn't be one of those cute pregnant women who looks adorable in maternity clothes and grows the cutest little basketball bump. But, I feel like I kind of carried on the que sera sera attitude, like "OK, I'm pregnant, I'm going to be a mother, OK then, let's embrace this." And, for 22 weeks and 4 days, I think I did. I didn't complain when I experienced almost daily bouts of nausea well into the 15 week territory. I didn't suffer blood pressure issues, my ankles remained relatively unswollen.
But, now we are part of the terrible club that is all too familiar with pre-term labor, children dying in cord accidents, children dying of SIDS, children dying, dying, dying. And, we also know IVF can fail, as we experienced at the end of January, when we tried IVF the 2nd time. So, I sit here on the eve of the blood test that will reveal if our 3rd attempt was successful, and I am terrified.
I am also very very angry. The anger comes from watching women who get to be mothers to living children and don't appreciate what a precious gift they have. We went to the baseball game yesterday. While walking to our seats, I observed this overweight blond in a black knit dress, allowing her toddler (probably about your age) wander about the concourse. It has always been a pet peeve to observe parents allowing toddlers to run loose in crowded public spaces, sporting events, malls, airports. Not only is there the risk of kidnapping, but there is the more likely risk that a large man will not see the toddler and trip over the toddler, causing both to fall. Guess what you DA mother, if a 200 lb man falls on your 20 lb toddler, there is going to be serious collateral damage to said child. It's like a motorcycle colliding with an F-350.... the guy on the motorcycle is not walking away uninjured. So, finally, Tubbo Blondie, hikes the little girl (who sadly also was already obese) up under her arm like a football, and the child was just dangling there, getting bounced and jostled. I carry groceries more carefully. When we were seated, this couple came in and sat in front of us with a blond boy toddler, (again, probably about your age0. The mom was pregnant again, probably about 7 or 8 months along (far larger than I ever got with you). We proceeded to watch her ingest a corn dog (on the value menu, guaranteed to be all "lips and assholes" as your Daddy says), several pieces of taffy, a large soda and popcorn. Yet, here I am, not even sure if I'm pregnant, but avoiding even an all beef hot-dog and eschewing soda for water, and trying to be dedicated to eating healthful, organic, non-GMO foods (even my prenatal vitamins are organic and non-GMO for God's sake!!). But, my body could not sustain a healthy pregnancy. A perfect example of life's cruel irony.
My darlings, thank you for listening to your momma's rants, nervous ramblings, fears and idiosyncrasies. Please ask God for good news for us tomorrow. We are missing you today and always.
All my love,
Momma
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Terrified
Wednesday May 22, 2013
Hello darlings,
It's been a while since I've written. There's not a day goes by that you're not on my minds, but I've just been in an extra big funk lately. Fitting that I would write to you again on a Wednesday, the day you were born. You would be almost 17 months old today. Every picture I see of other toddlers around that age makes me die a little bit inside. I get so sad thinking about what you would have looked like, and which one of you would have been the first to take those first steps. How much you would have been babbling by now. Working on your swimming skills.
Yesterday marked the 6th anniversary of your great-great Aunt Jayne's death. I know she's got you and is taking good care of you. I hope you were extra sweet to her yesterday and didn't act too fussy.
As you probably know, we are trying to bring forth a sibling. We started a fresh IVF cycle, with the egg retrieval on Tuesday, May 14. They retrieved 18 eggs, which was a remarkable number, 2 more than the cycle which gave us you two. We were blessed with fortunate news that of those 18, 16 were mature and ready for the ICSI process, and of those 16, 14 normally fertilized and embryos were developing. There was much debate whether the implantation would be on cycle day 3, Friday May 17 (your Uncle Pete's birthday) or cycle day 5, Sunday May 19 (the MISS walk and Phoenix Bereaved Parents' Day). The coordinator called me Thursday afternoon with this glowing report that our embryos were developing beautifully, that I was her star pupil of the week, and that there was excellent cell division, which was remarkable for a woman of my age. She said she would call the next day to let me know if the transfer would take place that morning or Sunday. So, she calls Friday morning and tells me to come in at 10:30 with a full bladder. We arrive. Daddy notices the car in parked in front of us has a Sewell sticker on it (a car dealership in Dallas), then, we get out of the Tahoe and Daddy notices the manhole cover says Waco Drilling. We go inside, Daddy selects the latest issue of Phoenix magazine. He flips it open and there is a picture of Waylon in an article on musicians with Phoenix ties. We're excited to see all these things from Texas, we take 3 things as a good sign. We go in to talk with the doctor. He now thinks it would be best to wait until Sunday, ok fine, you're the expert, we'll wait until Sunday. He said he debated it, because we got pregnant the first time with a fresh cycle and 3 day embryos, but by waiting until day 5, we should be giving them a better chance to further develop. We leave feeling a bit dejected, but hopeful, because he too commented on how wonderful my eggs looked, especially for a woman of my age. We had 8 8-cell grade A embryo's, with the remaining 6 embryos graded nothing lower than a B. I was ecstatic, but scared to feel too cocky, as sometimes I worry my cockiness is punished (the whole pride goeth before the fall and all). So, we planned to go back Sunday. We decided on a sushi lunch, as once they did the implantation, I hopefully will not eat sushi for several months. On a side note, I am totally torn on all the things they tell pregnant women to avoid, how they freak out over things such as sushi (when millions of pregnant Japanese women probably eat sushi daily) and limited amounts of wine (thousands of Mediterranean women probably drink a daily glass of wine with dinner). But, we are no longer innocent, and if able to become pregnant, will be over-the-top paranoid.
So, we are told to come back Sunday morning. No one sets an appointment time, so I ask. The receptionist says "The coordinator will call you later today with a time.". Ok, so after sushi, I go off to MISS to help finalize things for the walk. At about 3:45, I realize no one called with an appointment time for Sunday. I text Daddy and ask him to call. By the time he got my text, it was 4:30 and the office was closed for the day. NOOOOOOOOOO! So, we had to call their emergency service on Saturday and then wait for a call back. Finally, we had our appointment time, 7:45 arrival, 8AM procedure. We show up on time (very important to your type A momma). The doctor is LATE! Like 45 minutes LATE. Intolerable! And then, to top it off, another couple comes in for some procedure. I was feeling so upset by this point, and my bladder was overly full. Finally, she arrives, and we go in her office for the mini-consult, where they review the embryo quality and discuss how many embryos will be implanted and give us little pictures. This doctor again congratulates me on the quality of embryos, she says it is almost unheard of for a woman of my age. All 14 look fantastic, and they chose the best 3 blastocysts. She highlights one in particular and tells me that that blastocyst is picture perfect and even compares ours to the one on her little chart. I am feeling extremely hopeful, but at the same time, completely terrified because if they all look so good, what if we have 3 babies? I'm terrified because I know how having just the two of you went so horribly wrong with my body failing you at 24 weeks. I try to remain calm, but of course, being all jacked up on these various hormones, I start crying as she's showing me on the ultrasound monitor the details of the procedure and showing us the surge from when the embryos are pushed through the catheter and deposited in my uterus. She comments on how my uterine lining looks nice and thick too. The process is done in a few minutes and they leave Daddy and me alone in the room for about 45 minutes, me with a full bladder and Daddy reading aloud from Travel & Leisure, trying to keep me calm and keep my mind off my full bladder. We decide that the nurse on duty that day doesn't want to empty the bedpan, as it is never offered to me (whereas both in your cycle and the failed frozen transfer, I was provided a bedpan).
So, we leave there and are driving home. Daddy is complaining about a terrible smell, and we both mistakenly think it is some residue leftover from the recent detail. Wrong...... It turns out to be the new box of muriatic acid I purchased on Thursday, but couldn't remove from the car due to the lifting restriction I had. Your Daddy forgot to take the chemicals out of the car, so the box tipped over and was leaking on the carpet. It leaked through the peach blanket that I keep in the back of the car for the dogs, and ate right through the carpet, even though probably only about 1 cup of acid actually leaked out of the containers (both still seem quite full). Unfortunately, Daddy leaves the pool chemicals in there until today. There is a film on the windshield. I feel almost asphyxiated from the fumes. I start having a full on panic attack, freaking out that the fumes will harm the embryos we've had implanted. Daddy and Grandpa Joe take the chemicals out for me, but I am terrified that I have somehow once again failed any unborn children that might be trying to develop in my uterus right now. So, after speaking with a dealership service department, we may have a complete and total fouled up mess, in the words of momma's Boston friend, "It's a CLUSTAH....", or in military terms, it's FUBAR. The acid may have corroded the metal and corroded wires in the floorboards of my truck. The fumes need to be fully aired out. I can't do anything for 2 reasons - I am terrified to go near the car right now in its present condition and also, your Grandpa took the car so he could go to his job at the stadium. When Daddy comes home, he is going to try flushing out the area really well, as the dealership parts guy advised. We may have to file an insurance claim. I was just beside myself. I made Daddy call the doctor, they said it should all be OK, the danger would be from ingesting the acid, which I obviously did not do, just breathed in the chemical smells. Either way, again, in continuing the theme of this post, I AM TERRIFIED. And, while Daddy had the coordinator on the phone, he asked how many blastocysts they were able to freeze. Apparently, my super high quality eggs that produced wonderful and perfect embryos failed somewhere along the way, as she reported they were only able to freeze 4 blastocysts..... So, 7 of them failed, 7!!! My heart broke a little more at that news. I can't help but think, we got pregnant when we did a fresh cycle with day 3 embryos and we didn't get pregnant in a frozen cycle when we used 5 day old blastocysts, so what if we don't get pregnant now using fresh 5 day blastocysts, as they should have been returned to their natural environment, my uterus, earlier rather than later?!?!??!!
Oh my babies, it's been a rough rough morning for your momma. As Daddy said, why can't anything go right for this family? Please please please help us and ask God to bless us with a healthy living child or children. I can't even have a drink to take the edge off (not that I'm advocating that or endorsing raging alcoholism, it's just sometimes a small amount of spirits can be medicinal). Somewhere up there, go see your great grandpa Stan and have him mix y'all a highball and put it in to those Steuben crystal coupes emblazoned with "Baby's First Cocktail" that I first saw in a magazine when we were getting pregnant with you.
Momma loves you my darlings.
Hello darlings,
It's been a while since I've written. There's not a day goes by that you're not on my minds, but I've just been in an extra big funk lately. Fitting that I would write to you again on a Wednesday, the day you were born. You would be almost 17 months old today. Every picture I see of other toddlers around that age makes me die a little bit inside. I get so sad thinking about what you would have looked like, and which one of you would have been the first to take those first steps. How much you would have been babbling by now. Working on your swimming skills.
Yesterday marked the 6th anniversary of your great-great Aunt Jayne's death. I know she's got you and is taking good care of you. I hope you were extra sweet to her yesterday and didn't act too fussy.
As you probably know, we are trying to bring forth a sibling. We started a fresh IVF cycle, with the egg retrieval on Tuesday, May 14. They retrieved 18 eggs, which was a remarkable number, 2 more than the cycle which gave us you two. We were blessed with fortunate news that of those 18, 16 were mature and ready for the ICSI process, and of those 16, 14 normally fertilized and embryos were developing. There was much debate whether the implantation would be on cycle day 3, Friday May 17 (your Uncle Pete's birthday) or cycle day 5, Sunday May 19 (the MISS walk and Phoenix Bereaved Parents' Day). The coordinator called me Thursday afternoon with this glowing report that our embryos were developing beautifully, that I was her star pupil of the week, and that there was excellent cell division, which was remarkable for a woman of my age. She said she would call the next day to let me know if the transfer would take place that morning or Sunday. So, she calls Friday morning and tells me to come in at 10:30 with a full bladder. We arrive. Daddy notices the car in parked in front of us has a Sewell sticker on it (a car dealership in Dallas), then, we get out of the Tahoe and Daddy notices the manhole cover says Waco Drilling. We go inside, Daddy selects the latest issue of Phoenix magazine. He flips it open and there is a picture of Waylon in an article on musicians with Phoenix ties. We're excited to see all these things from Texas, we take 3 things as a good sign. We go in to talk with the doctor. He now thinks it would be best to wait until Sunday, ok fine, you're the expert, we'll wait until Sunday. He said he debated it, because we got pregnant the first time with a fresh cycle and 3 day embryos, but by waiting until day 5, we should be giving them a better chance to further develop. We leave feeling a bit dejected, but hopeful, because he too commented on how wonderful my eggs looked, especially for a woman of my age. We had 8 8-cell grade A embryo's, with the remaining 6 embryos graded nothing lower than a B. I was ecstatic, but scared to feel too cocky, as sometimes I worry my cockiness is punished (the whole pride goeth before the fall and all). So, we planned to go back Sunday. We decided on a sushi lunch, as once they did the implantation, I hopefully will not eat sushi for several months. On a side note, I am totally torn on all the things they tell pregnant women to avoid, how they freak out over things such as sushi (when millions of pregnant Japanese women probably eat sushi daily) and limited amounts of wine (thousands of Mediterranean women probably drink a daily glass of wine with dinner). But, we are no longer innocent, and if able to become pregnant, will be over-the-top paranoid.
So, we are told to come back Sunday morning. No one sets an appointment time, so I ask. The receptionist says "The coordinator will call you later today with a time.". Ok, so after sushi, I go off to MISS to help finalize things for the walk. At about 3:45, I realize no one called with an appointment time for Sunday. I text Daddy and ask him to call. By the time he got my text, it was 4:30 and the office was closed for the day. NOOOOOOOOOO! So, we had to call their emergency service on Saturday and then wait for a call back. Finally, we had our appointment time, 7:45 arrival, 8AM procedure. We show up on time (very important to your type A momma). The doctor is LATE! Like 45 minutes LATE. Intolerable! And then, to top it off, another couple comes in for some procedure. I was feeling so upset by this point, and my bladder was overly full. Finally, she arrives, and we go in her office for the mini-consult, where they review the embryo quality and discuss how many embryos will be implanted and give us little pictures. This doctor again congratulates me on the quality of embryos, she says it is almost unheard of for a woman of my age. All 14 look fantastic, and they chose the best 3 blastocysts. She highlights one in particular and tells me that that blastocyst is picture perfect and even compares ours to the one on her little chart. I am feeling extremely hopeful, but at the same time, completely terrified because if they all look so good, what if we have 3 babies? I'm terrified because I know how having just the two of you went so horribly wrong with my body failing you at 24 weeks. I try to remain calm, but of course, being all jacked up on these various hormones, I start crying as she's showing me on the ultrasound monitor the details of the procedure and showing us the surge from when the embryos are pushed through the catheter and deposited in my uterus. She comments on how my uterine lining looks nice and thick too. The process is done in a few minutes and they leave Daddy and me alone in the room for about 45 minutes, me with a full bladder and Daddy reading aloud from Travel & Leisure, trying to keep me calm and keep my mind off my full bladder. We decide that the nurse on duty that day doesn't want to empty the bedpan, as it is never offered to me (whereas both in your cycle and the failed frozen transfer, I was provided a bedpan).
So, we leave there and are driving home. Daddy is complaining about a terrible smell, and we both mistakenly think it is some residue leftover from the recent detail. Wrong...... It turns out to be the new box of muriatic acid I purchased on Thursday, but couldn't remove from the car due to the lifting restriction I had. Your Daddy forgot to take the chemicals out of the car, so the box tipped over and was leaking on the carpet. It leaked through the peach blanket that I keep in the back of the car for the dogs, and ate right through the carpet, even though probably only about 1 cup of acid actually leaked out of the containers (both still seem quite full). Unfortunately, Daddy leaves the pool chemicals in there until today. There is a film on the windshield. I feel almost asphyxiated from the fumes. I start having a full on panic attack, freaking out that the fumes will harm the embryos we've had implanted. Daddy and Grandpa Joe take the chemicals out for me, but I am terrified that I have somehow once again failed any unborn children that might be trying to develop in my uterus right now. So, after speaking with a dealership service department, we may have a complete and total fouled up mess, in the words of momma's Boston friend, "It's a CLUSTAH....", or in military terms, it's FUBAR. The acid may have corroded the metal and corroded wires in the floorboards of my truck. The fumes need to be fully aired out. I can't do anything for 2 reasons - I am terrified to go near the car right now in its present condition and also, your Grandpa took the car so he could go to his job at the stadium. When Daddy comes home, he is going to try flushing out the area really well, as the dealership parts guy advised. We may have to file an insurance claim. I was just beside myself. I made Daddy call the doctor, they said it should all be OK, the danger would be from ingesting the acid, which I obviously did not do, just breathed in the chemical smells. Either way, again, in continuing the theme of this post, I AM TERRIFIED. And, while Daddy had the coordinator on the phone, he asked how many blastocysts they were able to freeze. Apparently, my super high quality eggs that produced wonderful and perfect embryos failed somewhere along the way, as she reported they were only able to freeze 4 blastocysts..... So, 7 of them failed, 7!!! My heart broke a little more at that news. I can't help but think, we got pregnant when we did a fresh cycle with day 3 embryos and we didn't get pregnant in a frozen cycle when we used 5 day old blastocysts, so what if we don't get pregnant now using fresh 5 day blastocysts, as they should have been returned to their natural environment, my uterus, earlier rather than later?!?!??!!
Oh my babies, it's been a rough rough morning for your momma. As Daddy said, why can't anything go right for this family? Please please please help us and ask God to bless us with a healthy living child or children. I can't even have a drink to take the edge off (not that I'm advocating that or endorsing raging alcoholism, it's just sometimes a small amount of spirits can be medicinal). Somewhere up there, go see your great grandpa Stan and have him mix y'all a highball and put it in to those Steuben crystal coupes emblazoned with "Baby's First Cocktail" that I first saw in a magazine when we were getting pregnant with you.
Momma loves you my darlings.
Monday, March 4, 2013
14 Months
Monday March 4, 2013
Dear baby children Shelby and Dalton,
Today would have been y'all's 14 month old birthday. It was a rough weekend, maybe because this next milestone was weighing on our subconscious and making us miserable. It's Abram's momma's birthday today. And also the 10-month anniversary of when he died. It's also your great-grandmother Philomena's birthday. She would have been 95 (I think). I can't remember if she was born in 1918 or 1919. She and your great-grandmother Betty were very close in age. Betty's 95th birthday is later this month. If these ladies are around you right now, wish them happy birthday for us.
I dropped your Daddy off at the airport this morning, bound for San Francisco. I wish I could have gone with him, but we are trying to save money and no trip is in the budget right now. In 2 weeks, he has another great trip, this time to the Gulf Coast; Orange Beach, Alabama to be specific. His new boss asked him to help train one of my old counterparts (manager) who was laid off and opted to become an auditor like Daddy. Daddy's boss said he wanted Daddy to be with this guy as he thought Daddy had a lot of expertise to offer. That made me very proud of your Daddy. But, I'm sad I can't go with him. Prices to fly in to Mobile (closest airport) were $500+, so I thought about flying to New Orleans (either early or staying on extra, to see your Aunt Kelli), but those prices were about $700. I did find one option that might have worked on Southwest, for about $400, but Daddy said we can't spend that money. I really wanted to go because I find the beach so healing, and of course, it would have given me a new place to write your names in the sand (so far, we've got Gulfport, MS, Paracas, Peru, Santa Barbara, CA, and somewhere in New Zealand, thanks to Jack's mom. We should have asked your Uncle Bill to write your names on Maui when he and Aunt Adrienne were there last year. I don't know if they'd have done it or not). Plus, looking on the map, just west of Orange Beach is Shelby Lakes. You know I would have had to drive there. There's also a Dalton, GA, but I don't think Daddy would have to go there, he doesn't usually go that far east for work.
I re-read the last post I made, about 3 weeks ago. I asked for some signs. I think just after that, we went to dinner with your Grandpa Larry, Grandma Kay and cousin Emily. Leaving the restaurant, we stood near the cars in this little landscape area. Emily was playing with the plants and rocks and then she turned around (away from the 4 of us) and said "What? What?", into the night sky. I like to think that means y'all were there with us and Emily could see you. Then, Abram's mom texted me and said the host at a restaurant where they went was named Dalton. However, there's still a dark cloud hanging over me. I had a good time at the zoo with Olivia's mommy, and we met up again last week to walk. It is probably the single farthest distance I have walked in some time, if not ever. We walked about 4.8 miles around the Scottsdale green belt. Then, the next day, she texted to tell me she is pregnant again. They have been trying and I'm very happy for them, but so saddened that our attempts did not work and we have to keep trying. And, we have no guarantee that everything will work again as easily as it did when you came in to our lives. Then of course, there is the added worry and paranoia that the same result will happen again. It's not just getting pregnant, it's keeping me pregnant, and then, even at full term, the worries of cord accidents, infectious diseases or SIDS.
My darkness is making me very passive aggressive, according to your Daddy. I don't want this blog to become an ugly place of hatred, vitriol and rage, so forgive me for venting. In my mind, I resort to passive aggressive behavior and anger as means of self-protection. That probably is ridiculous, but for some reason, I guess I'm thinking if I wall myself off and don't let people in (including your Daddy), then I won't get hurt again. I find myself expecting the worst of everyone. Yet, I crave companionship and contact with people. I initiated a GNO with Auntie Leah for Tuesday and a walk with Olivia's mom again on Thursday. This dichotomy in my personality is very bizarre.
I'm going to sign off for now my darlings, I'm working on putting a bunch of old pictures in to albums and organize them, just in general trying to declutter the house.
My love on your 14-month birthday, I wish I was cooking some special dish for you and following you around the house. Momma
Dear baby children Shelby and Dalton,
Today would have been y'all's 14 month old birthday. It was a rough weekend, maybe because this next milestone was weighing on our subconscious and making us miserable. It's Abram's momma's birthday today. And also the 10-month anniversary of when he died. It's also your great-grandmother Philomena's birthday. She would have been 95 (I think). I can't remember if she was born in 1918 or 1919. She and your great-grandmother Betty were very close in age. Betty's 95th birthday is later this month. If these ladies are around you right now, wish them happy birthday for us.
I dropped your Daddy off at the airport this morning, bound for San Francisco. I wish I could have gone with him, but we are trying to save money and no trip is in the budget right now. In 2 weeks, he has another great trip, this time to the Gulf Coast; Orange Beach, Alabama to be specific. His new boss asked him to help train one of my old counterparts (manager) who was laid off and opted to become an auditor like Daddy. Daddy's boss said he wanted Daddy to be with this guy as he thought Daddy had a lot of expertise to offer. That made me very proud of your Daddy. But, I'm sad I can't go with him. Prices to fly in to Mobile (closest airport) were $500+, so I thought about flying to New Orleans (either early or staying on extra, to see your Aunt Kelli), but those prices were about $700. I did find one option that might have worked on Southwest, for about $400, but Daddy said we can't spend that money. I really wanted to go because I find the beach so healing, and of course, it would have given me a new place to write your names in the sand (so far, we've got Gulfport, MS, Paracas, Peru, Santa Barbara, CA, and somewhere in New Zealand, thanks to Jack's mom. We should have asked your Uncle Bill to write your names on Maui when he and Aunt Adrienne were there last year. I don't know if they'd have done it or not). Plus, looking on the map, just west of Orange Beach is Shelby Lakes. You know I would have had to drive there. There's also a Dalton, GA, but I don't think Daddy would have to go there, he doesn't usually go that far east for work.
I re-read the last post I made, about 3 weeks ago. I asked for some signs. I think just after that, we went to dinner with your Grandpa Larry, Grandma Kay and cousin Emily. Leaving the restaurant, we stood near the cars in this little landscape area. Emily was playing with the plants and rocks and then she turned around (away from the 4 of us) and said "What? What?", into the night sky. I like to think that means y'all were there with us and Emily could see you. Then, Abram's mom texted me and said the host at a restaurant where they went was named Dalton. However, there's still a dark cloud hanging over me. I had a good time at the zoo with Olivia's mommy, and we met up again last week to walk. It is probably the single farthest distance I have walked in some time, if not ever. We walked about 4.8 miles around the Scottsdale green belt. Then, the next day, she texted to tell me she is pregnant again. They have been trying and I'm very happy for them, but so saddened that our attempts did not work and we have to keep trying. And, we have no guarantee that everything will work again as easily as it did when you came in to our lives. Then of course, there is the added worry and paranoia that the same result will happen again. It's not just getting pregnant, it's keeping me pregnant, and then, even at full term, the worries of cord accidents, infectious diseases or SIDS.
My darkness is making me very passive aggressive, according to your Daddy. I don't want this blog to become an ugly place of hatred, vitriol and rage, so forgive me for venting. In my mind, I resort to passive aggressive behavior and anger as means of self-protection. That probably is ridiculous, but for some reason, I guess I'm thinking if I wall myself off and don't let people in (including your Daddy), then I won't get hurt again. I find myself expecting the worst of everyone. Yet, I crave companionship and contact with people. I initiated a GNO with Auntie Leah for Tuesday and a walk with Olivia's mom again on Thursday. This dichotomy in my personality is very bizarre.
I'm going to sign off for now my darlings, I'm working on putting a bunch of old pictures in to albums and organize them, just in general trying to declutter the house.
My love on your 14-month birthday, I wish I was cooking some special dish for you and following you around the house. Momma
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Being Alone
Tuesday February 12, 2013,
Dearest Shelby and Dalton,
Thirteen months ago today, while still grieving for Dalton, Shelby up and left us. Thirteen months of heartbreak, pain, loss, depression, loneliness, rage, mourning the loss of our lives together, of all the things we should have been doing and planning, mourning not knowing what you would have looked like, or how your voices would have sounded, what you would have thought of the dogs, getting to see your little personalities develop.
When I logged on to write today's post, there was a message saying my password was last changed 39 days ago. So that would make it about 405 days since I last carried you (roughly, accounting for leap year and assuming the last time I logged on was to write your birthday post). I still have sensory recall of how Dalton felt the only time I got to hold you, the day you were literally dying in our arms. I feel the velvet softness of your head, resting on the curve of my throat. It was totally different holding Shelby as you died. Your body was cold the instant they removed you from the machines, as if you were already gone.
Today, I had an appointment with my therapist. I generally felt ok while in the appointment, she said I seemed to have a clarity and good direction about what we're planning, she said it sounded like your Daddy and I were in a good place, despite our recent failed attempt to add to our family. After I left the appointment, I came home and took the dogs out for a walk. We went to the park over past the high school, so we could have a long walk. I noticed the parking lot was crowded. I hoped no one had dogs out, as you know how your canine brother Ike is around other dogs. I didn't see any dogs, so I breathed a sigh of relief. Then, I looked at the playground and there was a little boy, probably just a bit older than what you would have been Dalton. He had blond hair and was dressed in jeans. Suddenly such a darkness came over me. I was looking for a fight. Something about seeing those children just enraged me. I was hoping the mothers would make some comment or rush to protectively snatch their children up away from my giant dogs. No one did, they hardly paid us any mind at all. I just wanted to walk up to the mothers and say, "Hey, can my dog children play with your children? I would have brought my human children, but THEY'RE DEAD!!". I don't know what came over me, but I was so angered. I wanted to make a stink, to be hateful and bitchy and ruin their day. Needless to say, I held my rageful outburst in check, but I was changed for the rest of the day.
I came home and switched on the TV. It is a bad habit, but I put it on for the background noise, for a feeling of some sort of human interaction. On a rerun of Sex and the City, Carrie was talking about being alone. Her friends planned a big dinner for her 35th birthday, then none of them showed up, leaving her stranded at the restaurant. She even wound up having to pay $70.00 for her own birthday cake that was to have been paid for by her friend Samantha (yes, I know, $70.00 for a birthday cake is quite outrageous, but it was New York City in the late 90's/early aught's). She was alone. I feel alone much of the time. I'm going to the zoo tomorrow with Olivia's mommy and meeting your Aunt Chris for lunch Friday, but I'm generally alone.
Your daddy and I both would like to feel more signs from the two of you. It's been quite a while. Just something, playing with our blinds, visiting with you in our dreams or seeing or hearing examples of your names. Maybe you've been so busy playing with your friends Abram, Chloe, Weston and Olivia. We miss you as much as always, but we're trying to focus on some other projects. It would be delightful if you would bless our plans and help them come to fruition.
I love you darlings,
Momma
Dearest Shelby and Dalton,
Thirteen months ago today, while still grieving for Dalton, Shelby up and left us. Thirteen months of heartbreak, pain, loss, depression, loneliness, rage, mourning the loss of our lives together, of all the things we should have been doing and planning, mourning not knowing what you would have looked like, or how your voices would have sounded, what you would have thought of the dogs, getting to see your little personalities develop.
When I logged on to write today's post, there was a message saying my password was last changed 39 days ago. So that would make it about 405 days since I last carried you (roughly, accounting for leap year and assuming the last time I logged on was to write your birthday post). I still have sensory recall of how Dalton felt the only time I got to hold you, the day you were literally dying in our arms. I feel the velvet softness of your head, resting on the curve of my throat. It was totally different holding Shelby as you died. Your body was cold the instant they removed you from the machines, as if you were already gone.
Today, I had an appointment with my therapist. I generally felt ok while in the appointment, she said I seemed to have a clarity and good direction about what we're planning, she said it sounded like your Daddy and I were in a good place, despite our recent failed attempt to add to our family. After I left the appointment, I came home and took the dogs out for a walk. We went to the park over past the high school, so we could have a long walk. I noticed the parking lot was crowded. I hoped no one had dogs out, as you know how your canine brother Ike is around other dogs. I didn't see any dogs, so I breathed a sigh of relief. Then, I looked at the playground and there was a little boy, probably just a bit older than what you would have been Dalton. He had blond hair and was dressed in jeans. Suddenly such a darkness came over me. I was looking for a fight. Something about seeing those children just enraged me. I was hoping the mothers would make some comment or rush to protectively snatch their children up away from my giant dogs. No one did, they hardly paid us any mind at all. I just wanted to walk up to the mothers and say, "Hey, can my dog children play with your children? I would have brought my human children, but THEY'RE DEAD!!". I don't know what came over me, but I was so angered. I wanted to make a stink, to be hateful and bitchy and ruin their day. Needless to say, I held my rageful outburst in check, but I was changed for the rest of the day.
I came home and switched on the TV. It is a bad habit, but I put it on for the background noise, for a feeling of some sort of human interaction. On a rerun of Sex and the City, Carrie was talking about being alone. Her friends planned a big dinner for her 35th birthday, then none of them showed up, leaving her stranded at the restaurant. She even wound up having to pay $70.00 for her own birthday cake that was to have been paid for by her friend Samantha (yes, I know, $70.00 for a birthday cake is quite outrageous, but it was New York City in the late 90's/early aught's). She was alone. I feel alone much of the time. I'm going to the zoo tomorrow with Olivia's mommy and meeting your Aunt Chris for lunch Friday, but I'm generally alone.
Your daddy and I both would like to feel more signs from the two of you. It's been quite a while. Just something, playing with our blinds, visiting with you in our dreams or seeing or hearing examples of your names. Maybe you've been so busy playing with your friends Abram, Chloe, Weston and Olivia. We miss you as much as always, but we're trying to focus on some other projects. It would be delightful if you would bless our plans and help them come to fruition.
I love you darlings,
Momma
Friday, January 4, 2013
Happy First Birthday
Friday January 4, 2013
My darlings Shelby and Dalton,
Today is right up there in the top 5 worst days of my life. This is not how I should be celebrating your first birthday, sitting here on the sofa, completely alone with my tears. I have cried on and off for the better part of the day. Your daddy is hiding in the bed with his head under the pillows. I know we grieve differently, and I respect that, but I'm so alone, for me it makes the pain of not having you with me even that much more unbearable.
I would go out for a drive, but I don't feel I am stable enough that I should be behind the wheel of a car right now. I could just see, the officer would pull me over and I would probably display such rage I would be locked away for sure.
Your Aunt Manda and Aunt Kelli both called me today. Your Uncle Don and Aunt Cristina called each your daddy and I. Uncle Ryan and Aunt Violet called us too. I got a beautiful text from Chloe's momma, and she made a lovely post on my facebook page. I think perhaps your hands and hearts guided her with what to say. Aunt Leah texted me. I also heard from Anaiah, Janiah and Nasiah's mom. Abram's mom gave me a little angel and a lovely card when we had lunch on Wednesday.
I know I was harsh to your daddy at the beginning of today's entry. I don't mean to be, I just don't know how to be with him today. He gave me an amazing gift for your birthday, he bought me a brick for the new Baylor football stadium. It touched me and now I just have to select the perfect verse to immortalize y'all. It truly couldn't have been more special, he knows what Baylor means to me and he knows how I have always loved football. Since the days when I was barely walking, I used to watch football with your grandpa Joe and great-grandpa Stanley.
Babies, we are twenty minutes away from the exact time of your birth. I must go and feed your canine siblings, as your brother Ike is pacing through the family room and crying for his dinner. Then, I will go crawl in the bed next to your daddy and somehow try to comfort him.
I look forward to the day when we can celebrate your birthdays again together. All my love.
Momma
My darlings Shelby and Dalton,
Today is right up there in the top 5 worst days of my life. This is not how I should be celebrating your first birthday, sitting here on the sofa, completely alone with my tears. I have cried on and off for the better part of the day. Your daddy is hiding in the bed with his head under the pillows. I know we grieve differently, and I respect that, but I'm so alone, for me it makes the pain of not having you with me even that much more unbearable.
I would go out for a drive, but I don't feel I am stable enough that I should be behind the wheel of a car right now. I could just see, the officer would pull me over and I would probably display such rage I would be locked away for sure.
Your Aunt Manda and Aunt Kelli both called me today. Your Uncle Don and Aunt Cristina called each your daddy and I. Uncle Ryan and Aunt Violet called us too. I got a beautiful text from Chloe's momma, and she made a lovely post on my facebook page. I think perhaps your hands and hearts guided her with what to say. Aunt Leah texted me. I also heard from Anaiah, Janiah and Nasiah's mom. Abram's mom gave me a little angel and a lovely card when we had lunch on Wednesday.
I know I was harsh to your daddy at the beginning of today's entry. I don't mean to be, I just don't know how to be with him today. He gave me an amazing gift for your birthday, he bought me a brick for the new Baylor football stadium. It touched me and now I just have to select the perfect verse to immortalize y'all. It truly couldn't have been more special, he knows what Baylor means to me and he knows how I have always loved football. Since the days when I was barely walking, I used to watch football with your grandpa Joe and great-grandpa Stanley.
Babies, we are twenty minutes away from the exact time of your birth. I must go and feed your canine siblings, as your brother Ike is pacing through the family room and crying for his dinner. Then, I will go crawl in the bed next to your daddy and somehow try to comfort him.
I look forward to the day when we can celebrate your birthdays again together. All my love.
Momma
Thursday, December 13, 2012
12 months
Thursday December 13, 2012
Precious babies,
Yesterday marked the 1 year anniversary of the day we had our ultrasound. You were there, in full glory. They took 99 photos of the 2 of you, and I was amazed at the clarity of the photos, the perfectly round outlines of your skulls, your little noses, your arms and legs in crystal clarity. I was fascinated at all of the things they were checking. I also got a bit nauseous with the pressing of the ultrasound. I think it was just y'all, trying to say "Hey, leave us alone in here, stop poking around with that disturbing wand", so you sent signals to make me ill. Just like all the times when you let me know you didn't like the food I was eating. As we've discussed in previous posts, you liked high quality gourmet food, as evidenced by our birthday lunch with my parents at The Parlor and the many delicious meals we had in Las Vegas with your Aunt Manda, Uncle Kevin, Aunt Leah and Uncle Pete. After those meals, I was never nauseous in the slightest.
Yesterday also marked the one year anniversary of the beginning of both the happiest and the darkest 30 day period in my entire life. We shared your ultrasound photos with family and friends and I felt your activity level increase. We got ready to host Christmas Eve dinner, and 3 days later, I was in the hospital on bedrest, fighting to preserve the pregnancy, praying for another uneventful day, and another and another. But, as we all know, you arrived at the 24-week mark and your tiny bodies were woefully underprepared to tackle life on the outside. By January 12, you were both gone.
This week, I came down with bronchitis. Your father and I have both been battling sickness recently. Two weeks ago, he was sick all weekend, lying in the bed. I don't know if he had the flu or a colitis flare up or just mental fatigue. This broken-heartedness is impacting both of us physically. Daddy said he read somewhere that grief stricken parents are always battling illnesses, or something to that effect. I admit I didn't pay attention to him because I absolutely detest being sick. With the exception of our time in the hospital, my only other stint was an emergency room visit after I fell down the cellar stairs at Nana's, resulting in a mild concussion. But, another grieving Mom wrote something in her blog along similar lines. I'm afraid my mental acuity is less than sharp tonight, so I'm not up to quoting it, or even describing the gist of her post.
Your canine brother Ike is completely simpatico with my bronchitis. He has lain in the bed with me all day today, even forgoing his dinner tonight. He can't get close enough to me, he is trying to comfort my soul. Your canine sister is lying on the floor, she keeps sniffing the air. Perhaps she senses y'all are visiting us. Perhaps your Tante Jayne brought you for a visit, as she was always the family nursemaid, taking care of at least 3 generations. Make that 4 now that she's looking after the 2 of you. And, yes, Tante, I know I should be taking your famous concoction of honey and butter to kick this bronchitis.
I spoke with Daddy, he was supposed to get together with my SIG, Chloe's momma tonight. Ironically, SIG has also come down with bronchitis. We are forever linked in a horrendous way, but I find it comforting to have her with me on our grief journeys. He may see her briefly tomorrow before he leaves Alaska.
Darling Shelby and Dalton, Momma is signing off for now. Hopefully, this weekend, we will put up the Christmas tree. I have 3 ornaments for you, the ones I bought in Alaska in April and the one your grandparents Bones gave us. I hope I can find all of them, I've been more than disorganized these past few months.
All my love - Momma
Precious babies,
Yesterday marked the 1 year anniversary of the day we had our ultrasound. You were there, in full glory. They took 99 photos of the 2 of you, and I was amazed at the clarity of the photos, the perfectly round outlines of your skulls, your little noses, your arms and legs in crystal clarity. I was fascinated at all of the things they were checking. I also got a bit nauseous with the pressing of the ultrasound. I think it was just y'all, trying to say "Hey, leave us alone in here, stop poking around with that disturbing wand", so you sent signals to make me ill. Just like all the times when you let me know you didn't like the food I was eating. As we've discussed in previous posts, you liked high quality gourmet food, as evidenced by our birthday lunch with my parents at The Parlor and the many delicious meals we had in Las Vegas with your Aunt Manda, Uncle Kevin, Aunt Leah and Uncle Pete. After those meals, I was never nauseous in the slightest.
Yesterday also marked the one year anniversary of the beginning of both the happiest and the darkest 30 day period in my entire life. We shared your ultrasound photos with family and friends and I felt your activity level increase. We got ready to host Christmas Eve dinner, and 3 days later, I was in the hospital on bedrest, fighting to preserve the pregnancy, praying for another uneventful day, and another and another. But, as we all know, you arrived at the 24-week mark and your tiny bodies were woefully underprepared to tackle life on the outside. By January 12, you were both gone.
This week, I came down with bronchitis. Your father and I have both been battling sickness recently. Two weeks ago, he was sick all weekend, lying in the bed. I don't know if he had the flu or a colitis flare up or just mental fatigue. This broken-heartedness is impacting both of us physically. Daddy said he read somewhere that grief stricken parents are always battling illnesses, or something to that effect. I admit I didn't pay attention to him because I absolutely detest being sick. With the exception of our time in the hospital, my only other stint was an emergency room visit after I fell down the cellar stairs at Nana's, resulting in a mild concussion. But, another grieving Mom wrote something in her blog along similar lines. I'm afraid my mental acuity is less than sharp tonight, so I'm not up to quoting it, or even describing the gist of her post.
Your canine brother Ike is completely simpatico with my bronchitis. He has lain in the bed with me all day today, even forgoing his dinner tonight. He can't get close enough to me, he is trying to comfort my soul. Your canine sister is lying on the floor, she keeps sniffing the air. Perhaps she senses y'all are visiting us. Perhaps your Tante Jayne brought you for a visit, as she was always the family nursemaid, taking care of at least 3 generations. Make that 4 now that she's looking after the 2 of you. And, yes, Tante, I know I should be taking your famous concoction of honey and butter to kick this bronchitis.
I spoke with Daddy, he was supposed to get together with my SIG, Chloe's momma tonight. Ironically, SIG has also come down with bronchitis. We are forever linked in a horrendous way, but I find it comforting to have her with me on our grief journeys. He may see her briefly tomorrow before he leaves Alaska.
Darling Shelby and Dalton, Momma is signing off for now. Hopefully, this weekend, we will put up the Christmas tree. I have 3 ornaments for you, the ones I bought in Alaska in April and the one your grandparents Bones gave us. I hope I can find all of them, I've been more than disorganized these past few months.
All my love - Momma
Monday, December 3, 2012
If We Make It Through December
Monday December 3, 2012
Hello my precious Shelby and Dalton,
I'm sitting here tonight, watching my Baylor boy, Robert Griffin III leading his Redskins on Monday Night Football against the New York Giants. He is a phenomenal athlete and seems to be of good character. His parents are still together, which probably has quite a bit to do with his maturity and composure. He is the face of Baylor. Sometimes, it seems so bizarre, as he wasn't even born when I started my days at Baylor, he was born during the second semester of my freshman year. I can still remember when he won the Heisman trophy, the ceremony was on Saturday December 10, 2 days before my ultrasound. So many of those "milestone" days are rushing at us over the coming weeks. I couldn't believe how your images appeared on the ultrasounds, that we could see every detail of your precious and seemingly perfect bodies. We really were blissfully ignorant, naively thinking that we made it through the 1st trimester and everything looked so good. I must admit, neither your Daddy nor I were paying super close attention to the 4 factors that contribute to premature labor when the maternal/fetal medicine specialist detailed them. I remember high blood pressure (which I never had), age of the mother (guilty of frittering away so much of our lives), and discord between twin weights (more than 20%, which you never measured until the day you were born), but I don't know the 4th factor. It really didn't seem like premature labor would be something that we'd be dealing with, but how horribly wrong we were. Thirty-one days after that ultrasound, you were both gone.
We somehow made it through Thanksgiving, and stayed sober. We both know alcohol offers no solutions, sometimes it just numbs the pain. We didn't even get to that point on Thanksgiving. Daddy had 1 beer, which he left on the counter half full, and then 1 gin and tonic, again leaving half of it in the glass. I had 2 small glasses of red wine, I poured a glass for Daddy at dinner, he didn't even take 1 sip. That was it. Our mothers were both pretty mellow, and there were no major issues. Grandma Nancy said grace, and your Uncle Ryan surprised us by initiating the hand-holding during the blessing. Your Aunt Violet is scared to death of Ike, and he senses that, so therefore whenever she holds your cousin Emily, Ike loses his mind. However, when Grandma Kay or Ryan or I hold Emily, Ike is just fine. He even laid quietly on the sofa while Emily scratched his head. I wish I could tell Violet to relax, that Ike is a big cream puff.
I think you were visiting on Thanksgiving. Emily was in her high chair between your Grandpa Joe and her Momma. She looked up behind her Momma, up toward the ceiling. She clenched her fist twice, as if she was waving and then she looked directly at me, as if to say "Your babies are here."
Last night, as we were falling asleep, your Daddy asked God to let us dream about you. Well, I had a dream that featured Shelby. It was the weirdest thing, in the dream, we were eating at one of those major breakfast chains (we rarely eat at places like this), there was a big group of us. When I went to pay the bill, there was a black lady at the checkout stand. She said to me, "I have a message for you from that little girl." I asked "What little girl?" She said "That little girl, didn't you see her? She came in and was standing by your table for a bit. Then she came up here and asked me to give you a message. She said "Tell her Shelby says Hi". Apparently in the dream, there was more to the message, something along the lines of "Everything's good", but when I woke up, I couldn't remember specifically the exact words. Then, when I was in Albertson's later, I was waiting for the lady to bring me a new bag of romaine lettuce, and I could have sworn they paged for a Shelby. During Daddy's flight this morning, he said there was a couple sitting in front of him with a baby boy who was about 6 months old and that baby just kept staring and staring at Daddy. Had y'all been full-term, you would have been about 7 months old. Maybe that baby met you when you got to heaven and played with you for a bit. As it is, tomorrow marks your 11 month old birthday.
December has always been a hard month for some reason. I've always loved the Merle Haggard song If We Make It Through December, and it seems more poignant than ever this year. Although I don't much care for Merle Haggard himself (I'm still irked by that story that he swindled Waylon out of a bunch of money in a poker game was Waylon was stoned out of his mind. I don't support such behavior, but I will always take Waylon's side, as he is my favorite musician, as y'all know). Alas, I digress. Your Daddy has never enjoyed putting up Christmas decorations, on most years he does it simply to humor me. This year, I agreed we don't have to put up outdoor decorations but I do want to put up the tree. I have some ornaments for y'all and all the ornaments that I've gathered going back to the year I was born. Daddy has some ornaments from when he was a little boy too. Plus, Ike really likes to sit on his sofa and watch the lit Christmas tree. The dogs also have special ornaments, so we agreed to put up the tree. But the coming weeks are going to be just terrible. They mark the last few days of what was a relatively uneventful pregnancy. Everything changed between my going to bed on Christmas Eve and waking up on Christmas morning. It was the beginning of the end.
Babies, please give us strength to make it through the next month. Keep giving us signs that y'all are with us and loving us and are happy with our decision to try again by embarking late next month on another attempt to have living children.
Momma loves and misses you.
Hello my precious Shelby and Dalton,
I'm sitting here tonight, watching my Baylor boy, Robert Griffin III leading his Redskins on Monday Night Football against the New York Giants. He is a phenomenal athlete and seems to be of good character. His parents are still together, which probably has quite a bit to do with his maturity and composure. He is the face of Baylor. Sometimes, it seems so bizarre, as he wasn't even born when I started my days at Baylor, he was born during the second semester of my freshman year. I can still remember when he won the Heisman trophy, the ceremony was on Saturday December 10, 2 days before my ultrasound. So many of those "milestone" days are rushing at us over the coming weeks. I couldn't believe how your images appeared on the ultrasounds, that we could see every detail of your precious and seemingly perfect bodies. We really were blissfully ignorant, naively thinking that we made it through the 1st trimester and everything looked so good. I must admit, neither your Daddy nor I were paying super close attention to the 4 factors that contribute to premature labor when the maternal/fetal medicine specialist detailed them. I remember high blood pressure (which I never had), age of the mother (guilty of frittering away so much of our lives), and discord between twin weights (more than 20%, which you never measured until the day you were born), but I don't know the 4th factor. It really didn't seem like premature labor would be something that we'd be dealing with, but how horribly wrong we were. Thirty-one days after that ultrasound, you were both gone.
We somehow made it through Thanksgiving, and stayed sober. We both know alcohol offers no solutions, sometimes it just numbs the pain. We didn't even get to that point on Thanksgiving. Daddy had 1 beer, which he left on the counter half full, and then 1 gin and tonic, again leaving half of it in the glass. I had 2 small glasses of red wine, I poured a glass for Daddy at dinner, he didn't even take 1 sip. That was it. Our mothers were both pretty mellow, and there were no major issues. Grandma Nancy said grace, and your Uncle Ryan surprised us by initiating the hand-holding during the blessing. Your Aunt Violet is scared to death of Ike, and he senses that, so therefore whenever she holds your cousin Emily, Ike loses his mind. However, when Grandma Kay or Ryan or I hold Emily, Ike is just fine. He even laid quietly on the sofa while Emily scratched his head. I wish I could tell Violet to relax, that Ike is a big cream puff.
I think you were visiting on Thanksgiving. Emily was in her high chair between your Grandpa Joe and her Momma. She looked up behind her Momma, up toward the ceiling. She clenched her fist twice, as if she was waving and then she looked directly at me, as if to say "Your babies are here."
Last night, as we were falling asleep, your Daddy asked God to let us dream about you. Well, I had a dream that featured Shelby. It was the weirdest thing, in the dream, we were eating at one of those major breakfast chains (we rarely eat at places like this), there was a big group of us. When I went to pay the bill, there was a black lady at the checkout stand. She said to me, "I have a message for you from that little girl." I asked "What little girl?" She said "That little girl, didn't you see her? She came in and was standing by your table for a bit. Then she came up here and asked me to give you a message. She said "Tell her Shelby says Hi". Apparently in the dream, there was more to the message, something along the lines of "Everything's good", but when I woke up, I couldn't remember specifically the exact words. Then, when I was in Albertson's later, I was waiting for the lady to bring me a new bag of romaine lettuce, and I could have sworn they paged for a Shelby. During Daddy's flight this morning, he said there was a couple sitting in front of him with a baby boy who was about 6 months old and that baby just kept staring and staring at Daddy. Had y'all been full-term, you would have been about 7 months old. Maybe that baby met you when you got to heaven and played with you for a bit. As it is, tomorrow marks your 11 month old birthday.
December has always been a hard month for some reason. I've always loved the Merle Haggard song If We Make It Through December, and it seems more poignant than ever this year. Although I don't much care for Merle Haggard himself (I'm still irked by that story that he swindled Waylon out of a bunch of money in a poker game was Waylon was stoned out of his mind. I don't support such behavior, but I will always take Waylon's side, as he is my favorite musician, as y'all know). Alas, I digress. Your Daddy has never enjoyed putting up Christmas decorations, on most years he does it simply to humor me. This year, I agreed we don't have to put up outdoor decorations but I do want to put up the tree. I have some ornaments for y'all and all the ornaments that I've gathered going back to the year I was born. Daddy has some ornaments from when he was a little boy too. Plus, Ike really likes to sit on his sofa and watch the lit Christmas tree. The dogs also have special ornaments, so we agreed to put up the tree. But the coming weeks are going to be just terrible. They mark the last few days of what was a relatively uneventful pregnancy. Everything changed between my going to bed on Christmas Eve and waking up on Christmas morning. It was the beginning of the end.
Babies, please give us strength to make it through the next month. Keep giving us signs that y'all are with us and loving us and are happy with our decision to try again by embarking late next month on another attempt to have living children.
Momma loves and misses you.
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