Because I can...

It is summer.

I woke up this morning to birds singing in my yard, flowers still blooming and the sun shining through the apricot tree, an old tree that was here before we bought the house.  This tree has been through some tough times but as long as it still shows me leaves in the spring it stays right were it is.

I am in a good place, it feels good to say that, my kids are healthy and happy, Stevie is somewhere and I have to believe she is here too, and whole, not confined to a body so she gets to experience even more joy than I can imagine.  Elliott is busy swimming, dreaming, growing and I am waiting to meet him.

Today I am filled with hope and silly tasks;  I have towels to hang on the clothesline, a basket to buy, hopefully in a pretty aqua color if I can find it, for Elliott's changing table.  I have to make Noah's lunch for camp, and go to work where I will dust shelves, and glitter cards, maybe pay some bills.

I feel this little boy wiggle around inside me and I remember carrying my children, and how magical this time is, this secret time when it is just the two of you, and you are as connected as you can ever be to another human being.  I cherish this.

For five years Stevie's room has stayed the same, this month I packed the few things she left up into clear plastic containers and put them in her closet where I keep her shoes and clothes, I need to make room for this baby but I still need the parts of have of her to be close.

I will bring this baby home to her room, the room full of trees the room that still smells like her.  I will cuddle this baby in her big bed and I will imagine her close by, watchful and protective like she was with Noah.

I wasn't sure how I was going to feel, if I would get this far, but here I am half way through this pregnancy and like with Claire I understand that we are made up of layers.   There are parts of me that ache for Stevie so much it is hard to breath but there are also parts of me that love and find happiness.

I knew that a baby would help me heal.  I would heal anyway but this is good for me, it is the way I need to do it.

I believe Elliot has chosen me, and that he was always meant to be with us I just had to wait, I had mountains to climb, oceans to swim, tears to release.  It has been a long journey but worth every moment.

I went to Italy last month, I got to see David and I cried, for me David is love, I can see how much love went into creating him, perfect love, a dream.  I walked the old streets of Rome, ate at a cafe right outside the Duomo, woke up to church bells.  My life is good.  It has not been an easy life, and there have been moments when I wanted to lay it down and be done but here I am, this is when it is most beautiful when the storm has passed and you can see the sun shining through the tree in your yard, the tree your kids have climbed, the tree that has given your fruit even after years of looking like it might die.

The birds are singing because they can, because they must.  I am living and learning to be happy again because I can, because I must.

Five years and more...

It has been five years... It has taken me a long time to write this post mostly because I have been distracted, but also because I don't want to think about how long it has been, too long since I have seen your face, touched your cheeks, heard your voice, sat next to you and held your hand while you told me about a book you just read. I went to the cemetery, I brought yellow tulips, cupcakes, fruit, your friends were there before me and brought wild flowers and a little tea pot. We have not forgotten you... Sweet girl where are you? I feel you close sometimes, it's hard to explain, it isn't obvious, not something I can touch. I feel you inside me, all around me, it can last a moment or it can last days. It feels good but it's sad too, it's like we are passing through each other. Five years. Your brother is 12 now, handsome, he sings like an angel, the girls love him and he loves music. He is kind and gentle and moral all the things you loved in a boy, you would be proud of him and I know he wants to make you proud. He looks like you and that is so hard sometimes. It isn't fair to him or to you that I hold him tighter when I see you in him. Your sister will be 27 this year, holy cow Stevie can you believe it? She is still lost, still sad and angry and there is nothing I can do to help her, I make it worse and I don't know why or how. She needs me but she pushes me away. Sometimes I think she blames me for not saving you, I would have if I could have. I think she blames me because I can not fix this thing, and I'm the mama I should be able to fix anything. She is beautiful but won't see it, she needs you, she needs her friend Stevie to laugh at her jokes, give her a hard time and to think she is the coolest person around. She misses you so much, she won't believe in heaven so she misses you more. Ashley and Megan are grown up, graduated from college, they have boyfriends, apartments, lives...I am proud of them but it also hurts knowing that you are not here doing the same thing, that you should be here that I am missing out on helping you move, or celebrating your graduation and first job, falling in love with the boy who falls in love with you. They both got a tatoo to honor you. Megan got a yellow tulip and Ashley did fairy dust and stars with your birthday, it was such a sweet thing to do. I hope Sandy knows how lucky she is her girl's are a blessing. Adrian and Anthony are out of school, playing ball, dating girls driving cars and driving Rich and Kim crazy with this "I am all grown up and can do what I want, but pay my bills and feed me" time of life. I think Kim is lonley for a baby, a child to take care of, she is a mom, she needs kids, this is a hard time for her. Lumpy is drifting, I think he is depressed, I don't know what to do and TT is too tired and too busy. She tries in her own way but she doesn't know what to do he needs motivation, she doesn't motivate him, she can't he doesn't respect her enough. TT is working hard again, she landed on her feet, we all knew she would, she is a survivor. She saved her house and is rebuilding her life, I wish he could see that and be inspired. Dad is 53...he is terrified of being old but he acts old sometimes, I hate it, that thing is happening where people become an exaggeration of themselves. He isn't as happy but he always makes sure he has opportunities to be happy. He still plays tennis, performs (with Jeff) does a movie when he has the chance, travels, plays music. He is still himself I guess but he is changing. I guess we all change over time. Dad and I are still the same, I can't remember a time when we ever really got along. When we were very young we were a team for a while, but we had our differences. So many times I wanted to leave, so many times he wanted to leave but here we are 27 years later. Is this just what marriage is? The one (three) an only thing we ever did that was really good was having kids. I know Dad never really wanted kids and he bitched and complained all the time about it but I think he did an OK job for someone who never really wanted this kind of life. I know he loves you guys, he has worked hard to give you what you need. I think you guys are the best things in his life, you are his opus, his academy award. I am happy Stevie, I have every reason not to be but I am happy. Aly and Noah are healthy, we were able to keep what so many people lost during the recession because dad worked so hard. I have good friends, I have held my family close. It has been difficult since you left, my heart has taken so long to heal, and it is still healing, there have been deaths, sickness, hardship, and a lot of pain but here I am, still standing, still breathing, still able to hope and to love. You my sweet are a part of that, you keep me strong. You endured so much and I watched you, I held you, I listened to you and you never felt sorry for yourself, you never complained, you just kept hoping, kept loving, kept waiting for it to get better. You make me a better person, thank you. In the fall a baby is coming. After Claire died you would think I would be broken, that I couldn't do anymore. Your dad was awful, he said so many hurtful things, made it so much harder than it had to be and I could not understand it. In hindsight I see that if he had been kind and loving, if he had carried some of this for me I would have been ruined. He made me stronger, he forced me to fight back, he brought out the warrior in me. There were embryo's left...I had to make a decision. I knew in my heart that I needed to give them a chance, they were mine. I knew that if I didn't they would be destroyed. My heart wanted another chance, I needed to do this for reasons even I can't explain. I waited for the calm...and it came. It's the moment when you release your need, your pain, your want, your expectations. It isn't a prayer as much as it's a letting go. You say to the universe, "I give this to you, and I am at peace with what ever the outcome is" This calm is an incredible release. Dad was not supportive, there was no more money to make it happen, and the odds that it would work if I could find a way were very small. These embryo's were not great, and if they survived there was a 4-50% chance the same thing that happened to Claire could happen again. I waited in the calm, I stayed still and it all happened. The insurance company paid for some of the procedures I had and the total came up to the exact amount I needed for the transfer. My body healed up, it bounced back, it made itself ready, I didn't need to do much but show up for the transfer. Two embryo's thawed and were implanted, two weeks later I was pregnant. At 16 weeks and before anyone knew I was pregnant (I kept it a secret) I had an ultrasound that showed a healthy little boy with two kidneys. I wanted a girl, I wanted you to come home, I prayed for that miracle but in the stillness and the calm a little boy came, he chose me to be his mama, and that is it's own miracle. You are in heaven, and I have to believe you are happy there, so happy that even invited you said, "I think I will wait here" Noah has named him Elliott. I love that name, I love this baby. I don't know how it works but a mothers heart just get's bigger. This little guy and I have had a long journey, he was always coming I just had to let go and let it happen. My pregnancy will be term on your birthday, is that you telling me that you are still here, still my best friend, telling me that it will be OK? It feels like it. No one replaces you, no one ever will. You are my sweet bunny girl and that never changes. This baby will help heal my heart, and I believe with all of my heart it will bring hope and love to this family. We need this. I am 46 the same age my grandmother was when I was born. I had her my whole life. She loved me in her own way, she protected me, fed me and was my family. She left when she was 90, and it was sad but it was her time, she left when I didn't need her anymore, it's like she stayed until I was OK again. I know it is late in life to have a baby but it feels right. I have concerns because I am human but my soul is at peace with this, I feel like I am on the right path moving in the right direction. Dad is unhappy about my decision to do this, he wants to leave, and I have to respect that. He has been with me since I was a teenager, he has things in his life he wants to to that don't involve diapers and kiddie chaos. Dad is ready for the next stage in his life, he wants to do the things he loves and be in love. He has worked hard, he wants to slow down and find someone to hold his hand on a beach. He wants to act and travel, he needs a partner who wants what he wants. He deserves that. Well my love you see why I am so distracted. I am working hard to keep the store going, raising your brother, taking care of the house, growing a human being and coming to terms with what my be the end of my marriage. I am happy love, this is life, it is messy, unpredictable, sometimes unfair, usually bittersweet, but it is also full of all the other stuff that takes your breath away, makes you smile, makes your heart skip a beat. You can't pick and choose, what comes will come, what should be, will be. I am trying my best to stay in that still and calm place. I feel blessed to have someone I love so much, who loves me, waiting on the other side. When this wild ride is over, I get to be with you. Stay close sweet girl, know that I love you with all that I am. I won't forget, I will never forget. Mama

frozen hope

It's February and it actually looked like winter for a minute or two this morning; gray skies, drizzle, chilly enough for a scarf and heavy sweater. Not sure what happened, it's global warming or my imagination but the sun came out and it feels a little more like spring...what happened to winter?

I'm keeping busy at work trying to put check marks to the things I promised myself I would finally do on my "Seriously, when are you going to get this done" list.

My sweet boy is in play after play, making girls smile, making me proud to be his mama, what a sweet little man, what a voice, I like that kid a lot.

Aly is frustrated with school again, taking a break, trying to evaluate what she really wants to be when she grows up. She is an artist, she can't fight it or change it, not only that but she's really, really, an incredible artist. I think when she wakes up and believes it, everything will change for her.

Life is just life...it moves like the water in a stream, it has a direction and a flow, we are just the stones, smooth and worn where the water glides over us year after year. We might move or change but still the water runs over us and time passes, we make the same sound, it calms the birds, talks to the wind, mingles with the rain.

I found out that there are three embryos left, Claire's siblings. Because they are her family they are mine, because I adopted them I am responsible for them, and love them. I know someone is reading this and shaking their head "for real? they are a frozen science experament, totcicles, not even part of you biologically" Maybe you are right but that isn't how I see it, how I feel.

I went through a lot of pain, did a lot of waiting, cried a lot of tears, and traveled far, far down this road for them. They are hope to me, they could be my children. I think about them, and I want to bring them home.

I could say "sorry I don't want them" and cross my fingers someone else will adopt them, I doubt they will. It has to be disclosed that Claire died of BRA that caused potters syndrome. It can be genetic and the odds of it happening again (if that is what it was) are 50% If it was a fluke, (which it most likely is we can't know) then the odds are about 4%.

No one will take that chance, no one will sign up for that pain. I would.

I would rather they lived for 12 hours in the warm body of the mother who loves them, who believes they deserve a chance at life than to die in a dish in a lab.

I know this raises a lot of neck hairs, and I am sorry if you feel strange about it. I might sound a bit crazy I know but this is where I am.

The baby money has run out, not that there ever was any. Steve assures me I am done, because he can't see how this could turn out well for him.

So I have decisions to make.

I want to give these embryo's a chance, I want and need another chance. It might all go down ugly and very sad but it could also be a miracle. One of my husbands relatives made a statement that I was dealing with this in an unhealthy way. It seemed to me sad that this person would say that given that they had a child after the death of thier child.

Many people are afraid of technology stepping in and doing what they believe only "God" should do and some feel that natural selection is what it is and maybe people who can't have a child should not, it is nature choosing the strongest to survive. The funny thing is these are thoughts that usually come from someone who does not desire to make a family or who already has one, made the easy way.

I have learned a lot on this journey and it is that you can never really judge anyone, not until you have stood where they are with your heart exposed.

If you needed a kidney to save your life and another person was willing to give you one of thiers it wouldn't be "that kidney" It wouldn't be a strange organ, you wouldn't be shaking your fist and saying "I will not let these surgeons play god, I am not meant to live, let the strongest survive" Nope. You would thank God, your donor, and every person that helped you along the way. That small organ would be your hope, your chance.

A child is no different for a mother, especially a mother who has had to deal with a great amount of loss.

I can't adopt. I don't want to do foster care, I could never give a child back to a person that has hurt it, no matter how many parenting classes they took in jail.

I may have to just be happy with the experiences I have had, be grateful, and maybe let this part of my life go. It goes against all that I am but I may not have a choice. I am a fighter but somethings you can't fight for, you can only do what you can, what is in your power and offer the rest to the universe.

This is a year of great change...learning, acceptance.

I am grateful for what I have had, I know I am blessed.

Rambeling and remembering...

I started this blog after my daughter left her body. I wanted to be able to express my grief, honor it, and be able to hopefully look back and find growth and healing. I wanted another mom who had lost a daughter to find this blog and say "I am not alone, it doesn't fix it but at least I am not alone." I needed this to be a place I could say anything I needed and not worry that I was being a drag or bumming someone out. In real life the person who is grieving continues to grieve long after everyone else has moved on with their lives, for us it lasts forever.

I think the blog has done it's job, my words have reached people they needed to and having the freedom to talk about my daughter or whatever else is going on feels right with my soul. This blog has been a letter to myself, it reminds me that there I was and here I am, this is what I did, and I am still standing.

The days that I melt down and don't feel like I can get up are farther apart. I don't wake up every morning and cry anymore. I don't go to the cemetery every Thursday and I stopped going on the 19th of every month, now I go on her death day, her birthday and sometimes just because.

I still talk to her every single day, I write her love letters in the steam on the shower door. I keep her things, the few things she left behind in her closet but I don't visit them like I use to now they are here because it hold her place, they are symbolic, nothing can take her place, nothing will erase where she has been in our lives.

There are still times when I can't catch my breath because the pain is too big for me but I know I will move through it,that it's just what I must do, what I must feel, then it fades and things begin to hum and move and happen.

I tried to have another baby, for so many reasons, most that make sense to no one but me or a mother who has lost a child. I have put my heart and my body through so much in the last three years trying to make this happen. Finally it did happen and my much wanted, waited for, fought for little girl was here, growing, kicking, stretching...then she wasn't. Claire died, it was a random mutation that had nothing to do with anything anyone could explain. It could have and does happen to many people and she and I happened to be those people. I once again left the hospital without my child.

You would think that all this loss has broken me and I would give up but I can't and I won't.

I am not made out of give up stuff, if I was I would not still be here. My whole life has been about challenges and I am a girl who isn't afraid for long of them. I am a kicker and screamer, I am not told "no" easily and it would be a mistake to underestimate my strength.

There is something in me (in all of us) that knows what is right for us. It is a feeling that is deep inside you and hard to shake but it has a gentle voice. This "something" says "this is for you, but it's your choice, do the right thing" As most of us know the right thing for us isn't always the right thing for everyone else. As a mother I put my children first, my family first. If I have a little of something it is all theirs. If they all want to swim at the deep end I paddle out, even though I am afraid. If they all need me home when I want to be somewhere else, home is where I am because I would rather be with them than without them even if I am missing something else.

I don't think I am unusual when I say "I have lived my life for other people" I don't mean it to sound dramatic or like I am a martyr, I am not, I chose this, it is what I love and when my family is happy I am happy. Over the years I use to think "someday it will be my turn" and when I wondered how I would feel if that day never came, I didn't care. I wanted to be a mom, since I was seven, I wanted to be lots of other things too but a mom most.

I still do. Someone asked me once, and trust me she said it in a loving way, "after all this why would you still want to be a mom"? She said it would destroy her to lose a child let alone two and she would be terrified and scarred. I told her this, " when you fell in love for the first time it blew your mind, turned you upside down, then it ended and for a while you didn't think you could endure that kind of love and loss again. One day you woke up, you got a tea at Peete's and there he was this man who makes your heart pound and you have everything in common and you knew you would love him forever and it's magic for a little while then it isn't and you are back in the trenches, hating men, going back to the gym sure you will be the kind of woman who never needs a man. Two years later you are in a wedding dress, and all that happened before (in hindsight ) makes perfect sense, you had to endure what you did to get where you are. Some part of you held on to hope and the belief that someday that kind of love would be yours to keep."

For me it's the same. I love being a mom, I still want to be a mom, a baby won't take away the pain, it won't bring back the children I have lost but hope still lives in me and the belief that someday that kind of love will be mine to keep.

Maybe some people think I am too old or my relationship with my husband is too strained or maybe I have had my chance and I should give it up. That is OK, they don't have to live my life, they do not know my heart and I wouldn't want them to. Most people who really know me and love me understand, it may not be what they would choose for themselves because they are not wearing my shoes but they know it is what I need and want most and what I am made out of.

This is the first time in my life I am doing something that is right for me, because I believe it will bring me peace, healing and happiness. It may not be the right thing for my husband or for my oldest daughter (who thinks I am as old as dirt, and a little crazy). It might not be the easiest thing to do and it might be a lot more heartache and hard work but I am sure this is right for me.

It may not happen for me but I will go down with this ship, I won't put my hands up and surrender, there will be no white flag above my door...

I have this feeling, and I can't explain it that even though things look grim and impossible right now that they are about to change. I don't know how but I feel it, it's strong. I have felt this before and I trust it. My baby (child) will find me, I will leave it up to the universe to decide how that will happen. [don't worry I haven't lost my mind and I am not going to go out stealing babies or purchasing them at the local Walmart from crack heads] All I can do is open my heart up to this, trust and wait. I am breathing deep and standing still, hard to do when you are a stubborn hot-head like me.

I won't make resolutions for next year, instead I am waiting for a miracle.

I have two beautiful daughters in heaven and I think they are looking out for me.

I will continue to chronicle this journey no matter where it takes me, I know I will end up exactly where I am meant to be.

24

Stevie,

Today would have been your 24th birthday...or is it still? I am not sure how this works. To me you are still 19, I can't imagine you any older. It would have been nice to know you as a college student, then graduate, then working woman. It would have been nice to help you decorate your first apartment, come over for home cooked meals a la Stevie.

Would you have called me late at night to tell me about boyfriends, ask me how to get a pasta sauce stain out of a sweater or just call because you miss my voice and it helps you sleep. Maybe I would call you...yep I would every night and maybe you would ignore me, that would be fine with me.

Instead I am here on this planet in this physical body wondering where the hell you are and if you are somewhere what you are doing in that somewhere, that everywhere.

I imagine you with Claire swimming in a blue, blue, blue ocean, dolphins around you, water warm and the sky pink. I can hear you laughing in my imagination, the water splashing, you with a baby, our little baby.

Oh sweet girl the years are flying by and everything changes. I don't want it to change too much, I am afraid time will try to erase you, I won't let it happen.

I went to the cemetery today, when I got there a little man with skin like chocolate from working in the sun was digging a very, very big hole. I couldn't find your grave and for a moment I thought he dug you up. I got to the hole looked in and it was empty, no crypt, no coffin just that ugly cemetery dirt that doesn't look real. I asked him where you where and in his best spanglish he said, "service at two" and I told him "No, where is my daughter, where is her marker, what did you do with her?" I think I might have looked a little crazy and he lifted a big board he had placed over your marker to see if that was the one I was looking for.

I told him "Yes, yes" and he pulled the board away, swept the dirt and grass off of your marker and looked sad. I felt bad, it was 99 degrees out today and he was trying to dig a grave and have it ready by 2pm. He gave me some space to place the things I brought (big sunflowers, pussy willow a pretty green ribbon and green apples from our tree) . I didn't stay long, I knew he had work to do and I was grateful that he gave me time he did not have. I wished you a happy birthday, blew you a kiss and said, "C'mon Stevie let's go home".

The drive back was quiet, I didn't cry, I just sat in silence remembering the day you were born, thinking about the dreams I had for you, asking you to tell me where you are, to prove to me you are ok so I don't have to worry.

This is a hard time bunny. I am missing you and mourning Claire, it is a lot for a heart to take. I am doing ok, I am strong but you can see the cracks in me now. I want to try to have another baby, I don't understand this need anymore. Dad and Aly think I am asking for pain when what I am asking for is comfort. I ned to hope, I can't lose hope.

I believe Claire is with you where ever you are. I want to believe that you are telling her all about birthdays and all of your favorite ones, how much you loved parties, and cake, and presents. Maybe the two of you will plan a party so she will know what they are like too. Keep her close Stevie, I know she will love you so much and I know you will be a good sister to her.

Oh sweet girl what I would give to kiss your cheeks.

Know how much I love you...you still have all of me.

Happy birthday chumpkin,

Love,

Mama

Please God let there be a heaven, and let me girls be in the best part of it, where unicorns and fairies live, where angels sing, where cute boys with swinging haircuts sit and have coffee with geeky girls that wear glasses and can kill anyone at scrabble. Let my girls be together and please God Let me be with them again someday.

Claire...

As a twig trembles, which a bird
Lights on to sing, then leaves unbent,
So is my memory thrilled and stirred;—
I only know she came and went.

How do I tell this story again, where do I begin...

Claire.

On my birthday I went for an ultrasound, it was silly, and I was having one in a week but I paid a little extra to get a sneak-peek, to find out if she was really a girl, I couldn't think of any other birthday present that I would love as much. It would be the first time Noah got to see his little sister.

The technician found a problem right away and I could tell she was worried, she didn't want to send me off afraid, with nothing to hold onto, so she told me my little baby was a girl and I left the appointment knowing that everything had changed.

The following Monday my Obstetrician scanned me and asked me to see a perinatologist that same day. It was at this clinic that a doctor finally told me the truth, the sad, sad, news that my little girl was not going to be born. I was given choices, none of them good all of them with the same outcome.

Claire did not have amniotic fluid, she did not develop kidneys, and there was a zero percent chance she would survive outside of my body. My little mermaid was washed ashore, the ocean had gone and all she had was my beating heart keeping her alive.

I got a second opinion and I learned her little heart was failing. She would not live long inside me, there was nothing they could do. I wondered if she was afraid, if she felt pain, if she was suffering. I begged her to go to sleep, to find Stevie, to leave this place where she would never swim. She held on tight, and that night I felt her little kicks.

Two days later on August 25th, my other grandmothers birthday, I was induced and I delivered Claire into my hands. It was a long sad day, I woke up before the sun and as it set she arrived. My labor was 12 hours long, everything that could have gone wrong went wrong, was wrong and at one point thought I would die, and I welcomed it.

Then she was there, resting in the nest of my hands, I held her, kissed her, and told her how loved she was, how strong she was, and how sorry I was that I could not bring the ocean back. My tears spilled onto her cheeks as I memorized every detail of her perfect little body.

Her feet were long with graceful toes, the middle one just a little longer than the rest. Her hands so delicate, her little face round with a pouty upper lip and a pixie nose. She was small, mighty, beautiful, and she was my daughter.

(For those of you who could not wrap yourself around the idea that I was carrying a a baby that was not biologically mine let me assure you that biology is small, this little girl was my daughter, she was my child and my connection to her was strong and real, I knew her, I loved her.)

It is unreal, all of it, how can I be here again mourning the loss of a daughter? What kind of universe hands this to a person? What kind of God is so cruel? I spent some time here, thinking of all the reasons why this is unfair but no matter how angry I got nothing changed, I am here with this broken heart again, arms empty.

I then tried to make sense of it all...I told myself that Claire needed a place to grow and feel loved for 18 weeks, that was it, and she chose me, I chose her, 18 weeks was enough but it is all we were ever going to have. Being a mom means a lot of different things and even though I never got to nurse her to sleep or braid her hair I was still her mommy.

I am floating in a place between dream and waking...I am sleep walking through life right now, I have done it before. I will find things to distract me, projects that keep me so busy so I don't have time to cry. This is what I do, I survive.

I want to try again. It disturbs me a little that I can even think about it, that hope still lives in me...Love and pain sometimes they overlap, most times you can't have one without the other and always you must risk one to have the other.

I have learned some important things, they don't comfort me as much as they should but I have learned that birth and death are the same, that love is bigger than loss, that hope is bigger than fear and that nothing can destroy a mothers heart. I won't be crushed, I won't be destroyed, and I will push this boulder up this mountain again and again...because I must.

At night when the sky turns pink I walk around my neighborhood and I talk to my daughters in heaven. I try to access what ever hidden strength is left in me, I try to make plans, I try to believe in God, I try to understand that the universe has a plan for me and all I need to do is be still, just for a moment and wait for direction.

Claire, Claire, Claire...I wanted to be her mommy, I wanted her to sleep next to me, to smell her sweet breath, to hold her hand, to watch her grow. I miss her wiggling inside me, I miss planning, waiting and wondering what she would look like, if she would be born when the moon was full, the sound of her first cry...

I don't know what happens next, I just know that I am here in this moment and there will be a next and a next, where those moments lead is a mystery that offers hope to me even now when everything hurts.

Change

It is August and Aly will be 26 this month, how did that happen? She doesn't seem to excited about this birthday, she has hit a place where they just aren't as fun as they use to be. When she was younger birthdays were a promise, they brought her closer to the things she wanted to experience, she wanted to be a teenager, wear make-up, learn to drive, be an adult, vote...

Her birthdays now bring her closer to 30 and farther away from her childhood, the place she was once so eager to escape from she now wants to hold onto, it happens to all of us. My heart is breaking for her I know what she is going through, my little Peter-Pan-ess. Time pulls her forward and the things she cherished most are becoming memories that are harder and harder to hold onto, and Stevie isn't here to hold her hand and be her friend.

It is a year of changes and growth.

I am 16 weeks pregnant today, at 46 that is a big change for me, my body, and this family. I am filled with something that feels like faith, magic, love, and wonder. It is so funny, I have had three children you would think this wouldn't be such a big deal but it feels brand new, like it's the first time I ever had a baby, that anyone has ever had a baby. This little wiggle is already a part of our family and feels like it always has been. I believe it has just been waiting for the door to open to come home.

Aly... is getting squishy and maternal, she fights it but I can see and feel her softening. She will miss my 20 week ultrasound (gender) and is bummed. I am going to do something special for her she can still be a part of the day. I may try to call or text her while we are in the exam room so she can still be there. She has class that day, she could skip but it is the beginning of the school year for her and she needs to be there.

Noah...I can't believe how excited this kid is. He is a little boy and I thought he would be a little oblivious to the whole process. I was so wrong. This kid is in love with this baby and he keeps track of what week I am in, how much the baby is growing, what changes have taken place and how many days are left. He can't understand why it takes so long to grow something so small. At first he was sure this was going to be a boy, because that is what he ordered, a little brother, but he has changed his mind and thinks a little sister would be pretty awesome too and he wouldn't have to share his room if it was a girl! He has picked the names out for the baby and they are good names. He is such a sweet and amazing person. He is taking the morning off of school to be at the ultrasound and he will be at the birth with Aly, my sister, and Steve.

Steve...is doing his best to be a good guy but this baby isn't something he imagined for himself. He feels like he is too old, that our relationship is too fragile, that the future is too unpredictable. I get it, I just don't see things the way he does. I have no idea how his role in all of this will play out but I trust the universe to move us all in the direction we all need to go.

I am sure I did the right thing, I can feel it, everything is falling into place inside me. I felt so broken before, I couldn't make sense of anything, and I could not understand how I could truly put myself back together again but I moved in the direction my heart pointed me and here I am, and I am in a peaceful place.

This child does not replace Stevie, it does not take away that pain, and it isn't an escape from loss. I still miss my girl with all that I am, and there is no escape from the loss of a child but this experience is adding another layer to me; I had to learn to be a mother but not lose who I was as a person, I had to learn to be a caregiver but not lose my ability to be a mother, I learned to be an artist but still stay grounded to the life and family I had built, I learned to let Stevie go and still hold onto myself, now I will have a baby and have a new beginning but I will hold onto the child I lost. I can honor the loss of Stevie and the birth of this child in the same breath.

Is Stevie coming home? Does that happen? I am the kind of person who believes it can. I also believe that there could be a child that has been mine all along that has been patiently waiting for it's turn to come home. No matter what this child is loved and I am sure that this is how it was always meant to turn out, I just had to trust the path I was walking, the mountains I was climbing and the destination that seemed so far away and impossible to get to.

I am a blessed person. On the days when my sorrow is deep I forget, all I can feel is what I have lost, and it is so hard to remember what I have had, what still waits for me. Since I was a child I believed in magical things, witches, fairies, God, angels, birthday wishes, star wishes, moon wishes. I lived in worlds I invented, created imaginary places to hide the things that made me afraid, wrapped hope up in shiny paper and kept it in my pockets.

As an adult it is hard to believe in what was once so easy and felt so real. Stevie's death flattened me out, I felt like I was alone on an island, and not a pretty one. The sea took a tiny bit everyday and I knew one day I would be swallowed by it, and it would taste like tears and feel like falling. Then there were days the sun would come out and dry out the shore just a little, the waves would quiet and I could hear birds far away, in my pockets I could feel something shiny...hope.

It has been four years, and my island is my home, my house is on it, my family is here, my friends, my life. The sea is there and sometimes I am pulled to take my little row boat out into it, brave it, face it, swim in it. It can't swallow me now but it will forever be a part of me, it is what my tears are made out of.

This baby is promise, this baby is wrapped in shiny paper and this baby is helping me believe in magical things again.

My oldest baby is a woman now, still my child, still my little girl with the curly hair the gentle heart, and the laugh that melts me. My Stevie lives in my heart, she is a part of my soul and she surrounds me with her love. My little boy is growing up so fast but he is the glue that has kept my heart in one piece, he is love, he is music, he is sweetness.

This is a year of change, growth, and healing...