And then there were 1+1+1= 2 {3}

I feel amazingly blessed lately. My husband and I talk all the time about how you never really know the full meaning of love until you have a child. And we had that when we had our first. But now we can express it as parents. And we have a little boy who is full of such joy, such innocence, such pure wonderful goodness, that my heart has not stopped overflowing since he was born.

I write this post and I look over at him on our Angelcare monitor (I will probably use that until he's 4, I know nobody here judges me) and I look at his beautiful little head full of soft golden hair. He is laying on his side, his chubby little hands clasped in front of him. And I just swell with love for this incredible gift, this little cherub child who dropped out of heaven and is with me every day.

How can we be SO lucky?

And we have a little brother on the way. So (WOW) so unexpected and unplanned, and yet so wanted. We know the greatest loss. We have nothing but sheer joy at the thought of another baby. I have seen two ultrasounds, and this little boy took me and his daddy quite by surprise, but I am thankful for yet another opportunity to parent a child. We are just about 14 weeks. So many things can still go wrong, and there is so far still to go. Still plenty of time for me to spiral into panic meltdowns, multiple times a day.

And I can't help but think that I am now carrying my third baby, and only entertaining the possibility of the second child to bring home. And I linger on the unfairness of it all, and allow myself to feel a little bit of the rage that still sits inside of me, and I feel a momentary chill that my first child is housed in a cemetery. And that is our lives.

I'll take the joy, though, and run with it as much as I can. It's all we can do.

Please pray for your family. This little one is so loved already. God oh God please let him come home with us.

Flesh and Bone

Kind of an odd title for a post, I know. A lot of thoughts have been brewing lately. I know the holidays had a lot to do with it. I floated into the holidays expecting sunshine and roses (after all, we have Davey, right?) and got hit with the grief a little harder than expected.

My birthday is Sunday and I still have the vague sense of not wanting to celebrate. I just wish both my children were with me, and instead every single celebration has a gaping hole, whether I acknowledge it or not.

People kept telling me all Christmas day, "Just wait until NEXT Christmas! Davey will be SO FUN next year!"  All I could think was that meant that this Christmas was supposed to be the Christmas that Georgie was so fun.

Lately I'm really loving rocking my son to sleep. We are in that transition phase where Dave is starting to put him to bed sometimes, but I still have the magic touch when putting him to bed. And those moments are the favorite part of my day, when my son's warm, soft little body is just turned to me and he looks at me in the dark while drifting to sleep. In those moments, there is just nothing but the two of us, and I forget all my worries and minor stresses that plague my mind more than they should. And I marvel that in all my grief, panic and sorrow, my husband and I somehow made this beautiful little human out of our love for each other and the small shred of hope that we clung to desperately. I just marvel at this weight in my arms, this heavy dream of mine, now real and with me.

I love to rock him. It's so quiet, and I just hear my son breathing, slower and deeper as he settles in. I know that his favorite place is mommy's arms. Many nights it all overwhelms me, and the tears fall silently in the dark, as I feel closer to his sister in those moments than all the rest of the time.

There are a lot of parents who have given me a lot of unwanted advice on the rocking, telling me that he'll get too used to it and won't be able to go to sleep on his own. I know that these are parents who have not lost a child, and I suspect that those mothers who are not able to hold all their children may think differently about this.

I will rock him whenever I want because it is a great privilege I've been given. I will rock him until he no longer lets me. These are things I will hold in my heart when he is old enough to rock his own children.

Remembering Eliza

Beautiful little one with your unique and lovely name. Remembering you, today, sweet girl, and asking you to send love from heaven to your mama, daddy and little sister.

I will light a candle tonight.

Remembering Andrew

Remembering Andrew Steven Wilson today. Of course I never saw him in person, but I know how greatly loved and missed he is through the eyes and heart of his mama. I pray for Brandi, her husband and baby Benjamin today as they mourn such a great, great loss.

I will light a candle tonight for this little soul in heaven.

Oh my God I love this kid

Beautiful little baby feet. And a little baby laugh that is even better.

Empty and Full

Wow it has been such a long time.

I've been trolling around here and keeping up with my regular blogs, but really haven't posted lately. Most days, I tend to have a blog post or two rolling around in my head, but lose it by the time I think about actually sitting down and posting.

I look back on my life since May and simply marvel at how lucky and blessed I am to have my son. Somehow, on an early morning in May, a healthy, beautiful baby was born to me and my husband. Our  second child. Alive and breathing, and well. It takes my breath away when I think about it, how full and happy I feel actually getting to be his mama.

And existing alongside my full and happy heart is an emptiness that will always be there, I'm sure. I still have days where the grief hits me hard, but usually it only stays around for a little while, instead of days at a time. Of course, holidays are the big ones. But in the small moments too, and even sometimes when I see my son sleeping and an image of his sister comes to me. I think they would have looked pretty different with their eyes open. But they look very similar with their eyes closed, and the panic can rise before I even catch it.

I'm so thankful to my daughter for so many things, and they reveal themselves more and more. The whole everything happens for a reason line of thinking is total B.S., but I can still see some good from her death.

With Davey, every small thing is such a wonder and I find myself with a constant sense of gratitude. I can hope I would have been that way if we had lost Georgie, but if I'm being honest with myself, I'm not so sure. I don't take anything for granted with him. I relish each day, and all the experiences, even if it means most of my clothes end up with drool on them at the end of the day and having little baby fingers pulling at my hair.

Don't get me wrong. I'm worn out. Exhausted even, most days. Having a 6 month old and working full time (oh and did I mention I'm studying for another bar exam??) is super tiring. But at the same time that I'm so tired, I'm so happy. I was tired in 2011, too. Tired from grief, from anxiety, from lack of sleep since Georgie left us. Pregnant at the tail end of the year with Davey and completely fried. That's not necessarily a tired that I ever want to return to. The tired I feel now, it's simply wonderful.

Other goings on with us?? Since Davey, Dave took the bar here and got a job as an Asst District Attorney. He couldn't be happier. Life is full of being parents and working, and taking care of the house. I don't have much time for myself, and frankly, it makes me ecstatic. Caring for my child is so much more fulfilling than having hours and hours to myself. In 2011, if I could have rid myself of hours in a day, I would have. After she died, I just had hours and hours staring me in the face, and I could have just crawled in a hole and died myself.

I miss her lately. I feel her void strongly, perhaps even stronger sometimes now that Davey is here. But he also fills our world in a way that pushes the grief out to the edges sometimes, and I am so in love.

How could I have been such a miserable wreck during my pregnancy with him, and somehow he is so sublimely happy and easygoing all the time? It just goes to show, BLMs, don't let the rest of the world tell you to put on a happy face when you're absolutely terrified. It doesn't seem to matter!

Here's a few pics of the last few months. I'm going to try to be more regular about posting. Enjoy!

                            These are obviously in no particular order. This was a particular cheery Sunday
                                                                    morning in October.

 He was only about 4 weeks in this pic. I thought it was funny because he was so upset, then suddenly decided he wanted to yawn and stretch out.

 Ah gone are the days when he naps in the crib/bassinet. It's the swing or nothin', folks.

 Is it just me, or does this paci look absolutely ginormous? Wow he was so tiny!

Thanks to the beautiful bili light box (please God can none of my other children have jaundice?), he lost his umbilical cord approximately 6 days after coming home. He's been an innie ever since.

                                                                Baby feet. <3

                                                     He just couldn't get more perfect.

 Not sure what this look on his face is, but I love it. I laugh every time.

Cuddling with mama the afternoon of his baptism.

 Awkward hair coming in, hair falling out stage. Totally adorable.

 One of his first smiles. He thinks daddy is so funny.

 What's with that face? This kid knows how to contort his face like no other.

The family hanging out on a Friday night. The furbabies in the background.

Snoozing with his Ya Ya.

The meltdown face. Seriously, pick me up, like, RIGHT NOW.

 I dig the tummy time, but I'm not really so good at it yet.

 What??? Daddy passed the bar? Awesome!!

 This is every morning with Davey. Utter happiness. How did I have a kid that is a morning person??

 Hanging with Uncle Hunter.

 Helllooooo Ladies.

 Naked time!

 What's up, mom? Yeah, dad and I are just chillin'.

 I love this face.

 Davey's first Walk to Remember in Dallas!

 That's right. I'm a rainbow baby. Check out my awesome hoodie.

 Wow he loves this thing. And don't even come near him with the rainforest jumperoo. He likes the farm theme.

 Littlest pumpkin. October 2012.

 Bingley and Quatro looking bored.

 Cutest pooh bear ever! Halloween.

Ray of sunshine--a normal moment for Davey.

Lately

Lately, between my job, house, husband, and new baby boy, I've been pulled in about 1,000 different directions. Switching from diaper changes to lawyer think is an odd transition. I'm exhausted. I'm bone-tired. It's exhilarating.

I welcome it. I was bone tired last year at this time from grieving, from the constant ache of missing my daughter. Having her little brother here has been healing for me in a way I didn't anticipate. Now focusing on both of them, but with him in my arms, I can still ache for her, but it doesn't ache so bad. I don't feel it as strongly.

My son is 10 weeks old today. He has a social security card and a real, live birth certificate. And somehow by the grace of God, he's still alive. I'm astounded by it. I can't help it. Before him, I only knew the sadness of my child that had died, and it seemed as if that was destined to be my reality. Despite the rarity of these situations, I was convinced it would happen again. So far, it hasn't. So far I've changed countless dirty diapers, fed him countless bottles, given him a bath every night, and am always cleaning spit up from my clothes, and I am so so thankful for this.

One of the few items I have from Georgiana is the hospital blanket she was wrapped in. You know, the ones all the hospitals have, with the little multicolored baby footprints on them? Her little blankie has a small spot of urine from her body after she was wrapped up in it. My guess is that maybe only mamas that have lost will understand this, but there was a time when I would have given up my life to make sure nothing happened to that blanket and the little spot on it. It was a tangible reminder of her, that she existed here in bodily form. That little spot of urine connected me to her, and was, and still is, so so precious to me.

I am ecstatically happy to be able to change any diapers for my now living second child. It all gives me great joy, and I'm glad to have this perspective, though will never understand why it came at such a high price.

Tired. Overwhelmed. Grateful.