It was a Wednesday

It was a Wednesday. Two years ago. I got up, a rock sitting in my chest. My body felt heavy. 

**TRIGGER** 

Between the waves of nausea (hindsight – maybe I was just nervous) and the nerves I got ready. I curled my hair, I slipped on my black maxi skirt – heck I clearly remember which panties I wore. Because it was April I picked a long white sleeve t-shirt. It was still chilly in the mornings. Plus it showed off my “I’m a week shy of the second trimester” pooch. I liked it. 

I knew I had an appointment. I wouldn’t lie and say I wasn’t nervous. In fact, I was actually overwhelmed by doom. You see, on Sunday (two years ago it was Easter) I spent the entire day on my feet. And a trip to the bathroom revealed what every pregnant momma never wants to see, red. It was just a little bit. And only for that one day. Regardless, I called and reported it Monday morning. They happily bumped my appointment to… Wednesday.

I had spent all week telling myself it was “just because of…..”. But deep down, I think my heart knew. 

As I brushed my teeth, packed a lunch, sprayed my hair and threw on my black flat – why did I wear those, I remember thinking “those make my feet stink, I probably shouldn’t wear them” – but all the while I’m singing as I get ready. 

  
Whatever’s in front of me I choose to sing hallelujah”

Although I was nervous, ok – terrified of the appointment I had that morning I was going alone. I was choosing to trust. Trust that everything was golden and our little peanut was just getting comfortable. I was expecting a lecture about how I needed rest and to stay off my feet for extra periods of time, or at least take a break here and there. I was fully expecting my thoughts and fears to be irrational. I was choosing to trust and choosing to know that God was good.

I popped into work- did part of my morning and headed to my appointment. Fear was welling up up- 

“Whatever’s in front of me help me to sing hallelujah”

It was quickly my turn. We talked, and decided at this point we should  be able to get the heartbeat from the Doppler. We had a perfect heart beat 3.5 weeks ago, so “we should be good” – she says.

Silence.

Try again….

Silence.

 She attempted to tell me that sometimes it’s harder to grab the heart beat depending on the placenta placement. 

“Let’s go ahead and just do a quick ultrasound.”

Trying to hold it together I was placed back in the waiting room. Tears flooding my face. I knew it. I sent out my first text.

“They couldn’t find the heartbeat of the Doppler- waiting for ultrasound”

I sat and waited. It felt like an eternity. I had a few friends ask to come sit with me (Connor was a work and hadn’t yet received my messages). I declined- cause well by the time anyone got to me- I would be done, I’m sure. The heart beat will be there and off I’ll go and it will have all just been a quick nightmare.

I’d never felt more isolated. I searched for tissues. I was that girl bawling in the waiting room, surrounded by big pregnant bellies. I stepped up to the front desk and asked for a tissue box. Look of pity of her face. Part of me wanted to scream: STOP STARING. Yes, I’m the one with a dead baby.

I was soon lead into the ultrasound room. It didn’t take long to see the lifeless baby sitting motionless in my womb. The gravesite for now 3 babies. After about 10 seconds I began loud, uncontrollable sobs and my friend walked in, unannounced. I miss that friend. We’ve since had a falling out. She’ll be part of my memory forever.

All I remember is apologizing for crying while she was trying to take measurements, and finish her job. The next memory I have is sitting in a white room – listening to my options but only caring about whether or not we could get ahold of my husband. My next memory is stepping into HR’s office at work… Telling them my baby is dead.

That day I chose a D&C. Little did I know I would have to wait until Friday. I carried my dead baby for two more days. I wept, I didn’t eat much, I sure as hell didn’t sleep. I experienced flashbacks and outbursts of tears and sobs. All I could see when I closed my eyes was my little peanut- with no heartbeat. Motionless.

It was several weeks later we would find out our babe was a little boy. That he was sick, he had a genetic mutation that just was not compatible with life. I found healing in those answers.

But 2 years later, a rainbow baby, and my heart still aches. In fact, typing this story made me shake, cry, and feel much of what I felt that day. Some say that once you pass a certain amount of time or get your rainbow baby you shouldn’t hurt anymore. Or maybe I should be over it by now. I firmly believe you never “get over it”. It just changes.

It doesn’t rip your heart out to think about it. Anniversaries and “should have been” due dates pass by and you don’t think twice about it. But sometimes that ache still exists. And it can be strong. But it doesn’t ruin you. I often look back and think it must have all been just a bad dream. Even though it feels like it was yesterday AND a million years ago- all at the same time. 

I share this because it’s real. Loss mommies don’t share their grief often enough. We tuck it away. Protect ourselves from comments or well wishers. I share this because it’s healing – for me. I still have flashbacks, I still have anxiety, I have plenty of triggers and weak moments. Moments where I wish I had ALL my babies in my lap, and not just one. Then sometimes I feel guilty that I’m happy I JUST have one… I can’t win with myself. But that’s why there’s grace.

In sweet memory of my perfect angel- Colton James Brooks

Renovation!

We recently underwent a big project! We aren’t nearly finished (at least with decor and such). BUT, the biggest portion of it all is complete. It was a long process and I am so proud of my hubby for doing all of it himself with the help of my brother-in-law. We’re pretty darn thankful for his help! I’m actually a little embarrassed by our “before” pictures… We realized we hadn’t taken any as we were getting started and things were thrown about and oh my word WHAT A MESS!!! I promise, I’m typically a tidy person.

Crosby was a trooper and was able to sleep through most of the noise. Plus, it was incredibly nice having my hubs home. Even if he was working on the house.

Hopefully our kitchen is up next 🙈 I’m ready for non-1980’s back splash and new/updated cabinets/counter tops/etc! That’s for another day…. Or year! HA!

Like I said we still have a lot left to decorate, but the flooring, trim, and paint is complete! (If anyone has any cool basket ideas for the exposed shelving that would be awesome… I’m not sold on what we got going’ on right now, also any fun ideas for decor – wall art, house plants, etc – I’m so open to fun ideas, as I’ve not even started that process yet!)

Enjoy…

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8 Months

  

  
Dear Crosby,

You are: Wild, energetic, determined, strong willed, humorous, daring, cheerful, bold, and independent. 

You: smile and giggle easily, engage in long moments of eye contact, get laugh attacks and blow the longest hardest raspberries I’ve ever seen. 

You have: changed me completely, tested my boundaries, frustrated me more than anyone, expanded my heart and love to lengths and depths I’ve never known. 

You’re the hardest work I’ve ever done. I’m continually being reminded of my exponential need for Jesus at the center of each of my days. You’re the greatest accomplishment of my (so far – relatively short) life. You’re the biggest dream and desire in my heart that’s come true. You are far greater than I could have dreamed. You are far more beautiful than what I could have imagined. 

Thank you, Jesus for a sweet boy who has enriched my life and drawn me nearer to you. Hold his life in your hands. 

Love Always,

Your Momma

  

My little tornado is 21lbs 8oz and 30 inches long. 
He loves to eat. Whether it’s a fist full of hummus or boob or two full of momma’s milk. 

  

He is still army crawling but has moved on to bigger goals such as, walking with our help, pulling himself up and crawl in/on/on top of and through many different objects. 

He says Momma for just about every occasion. It’s adorable. 

He has two big ol’ bottom teeth and his two top teeth are making their way down. It also looks as though the next bottom teeth are trying to erupt through the gum line as well.

He definitely doesn’t sleep through the night without a boob or two (or three or four…. Heaven forbid cluster feeding nights and we get upwards of 5-6 “snacks”). 

  

He dislikes strangers, diaper/clothing changes, on occasion I feel like he truly dislikes naps as of lately. But, we’re trying our best to get at best 1-2 naps in. Hopefully once his “leap” is over we can resume a good 2 naps a day routine. He also dislikes when momma isn’t in plain view (apparently this is when the audience starts when using the bathroom). Thankfully there isn’t much he doesn’t like.

He loves bath time, playing, bouncing, nursing, the list could go on and on. He’s pretty easy to entertain, and for the most part he is very independent. It’s those nap strike days where I have to really devote 150% of myself to him (hello clingy). 

  

He is a straight up momma’s boy. I could pretend that I couldn’t care less, but that would be a lie. There is no greater satisfaction that having him reach for me and need/want me. Although it can be exhausting and demanding, it’s also incredibly sweet and makes me feel like he thinks the world of me. I’m so loved by him, and I love it 💙

We’ve recently done some massive renovating at our home. So my next post will be exclusively dedicated to before and after pictures. We’re all pretty happy, but mostly excited to be finished.

  
My March of Dimes Fundraising is in FULL swing. I’m stoked to be helping my previous employer and be on their team again this year. My goal is $2,500, I’ve successfully raised $1,013 to date. If you are so compelled, please donate!

Www.marchforbabies.org/babybrooks