Fake it Til You Make It

I have heard the phrase "fake it til you make it" many times. I know lots of people who practically live by that. I'm finding that I'm needing to use that at the moment....well, sort of. I'll explain.


As everyone knows, losing Logan was very very sad. I use the word sad because it's basic, it's what people understand when they're on the outside looking in. I think people generally can understand the basic 'sadness' of losing a baby like that. Of course it would be 'sad'. But no one can understand what it does to you INSIDE. To your heart, to your soul, to your spirit. That it can make you question everything, that it can completely shred your faith, that it can fill you with things you've never felt and never wanted to. How you can go day to day and be okay and certainly appear perfectly fine to others and you ARE doing okay for the most part, you are. But when you're all alone, you sob and you wail and it all pours out of you at once and you just let it because you need the release.

When I'm alone, I do that. I cry and I wail and I beg God to just help me, to HEAL me. That's what I want. To be helped, to be healed. This hole HURTS and it hurts BAD. I don't know how to say it any more simply than that. It hurts BAD. And I can't imagine it hurting any less, even though that's what I want. And the smacking you upside the head, that's the worst. I feel like I need to be on guard all the time because if I'm not, it will knock the breath right out of me. Simply driving down the road the other day and I see a Little League field, full of these tiny little boys in their brand spanking new uniforms with their bats and their gloves and I just lost it. I sobbed for my Logan and how I wish to God he was here to wear a uniform like that, for me to watch him play a game, to take him home after, to smell his sweaty little head and wipe his dirty little face and hug him for a win or for a loss. My God, he wouldn't even be OLD enough for Little League, yet these are the things that can out of the blue send me straight back into the pit of grief just when I thought I was at least halfway up the side.

I am at a place right now spiritually where I don't know what I'm doing other than waiting. On what, I don't know. I know I want to be in a different place than where I am. But I don't know how to get there. I don't know how to let go of what's inside me. I don't know how to understand. Because I don't. I don't understand. And that's my greatest fear, that I simply never will. I want so badly for there to be a reason, or even to simply be okay with there NOT being one. But neither of those is true right now.

I want peace and I want understanding. I want to get THERE but I am HERE and I have no idea how to go about moving. So, in a sense I am faking it until I am making it. I'm reading my Bible daily, I'm praying, I'm going to church, I'm making an effort to only fill myself with good things.
I truly feel like I'm open; as open as I know how to be, and I'm waiting. I'm willing to listen, willing to be touched, to be changed. My heart is out there. But so far, I'm still just waiting. I'm working right now on just being okay with that, because frankly, that's all I've got at this point.

I heard a song recently called "Held". It really touched me. I don't know how I feel about it really. Conflicted a bit, comforted a bit, angry a bit. But it does something to me. Maybe I just need to be held. I'm trying to allow God to hold me, because I don't know how much longer I can hold mySELF up in this.



Held by Natalie Grant


Two months is too little
they let him go
they had no sudden healing

To think that providence
would take a child from his mother while she prays
is appalling

Who told us that we'd be rescued
What has changed and why should we be saved
from nightmares?

We're asking why this happens
to us who have died to live
it's unfair

This is what it means
to be held
how it feels
when the sacred is torn from your life
and you survive

This is what it is
to be loved
and to know
that the promise was when everything fell
we'd be held

This hand is bitterness
we want to taste it
and let the hatred
numb our sorrows

The wise hand opens slowly
to the lily of the valley
and tomorrow

This is what it means
to be held
How it feels
when the sacred is torn from your life
and you survive

This is what it is
to be loved
and to know
that the promise was
when everything fell
we'd be held

If hope is born of suffering
If this is only the beginning
Can we not wait, for one hour
Watching for our savior?

This is what it means
to be held
how it feels
when the sacred is torn from your life
and you survive

this is what is
to be loved
and to know
that the promise was
when everything fell
we'd be held

Really?

Has it been since JUNE that I added to this blog? WOW. As you can see, I am not very good at the blogging thing. I have the best intentions, but never follow through (hmmm...a recurring pattern in different areas of my life as well). Oh well, it is what it is and I will try to do better. I doubt it's read much anyway. I just wanted it for myself.



Well, let's see...since JUNE, Ella has started daycare and turned 2 and became wildly sassy and hilarious and I could just eat her up. Sometimes I just grab her and hug her and say "I love you, I love you I love you!" Really this blog could just be titled "Let me tell you how much I love Ella Ann" because I could really drone on about that endlessly! She just...how to word it?...she amazes me, she captures me, she's just...wow. She is talking up a storm and I love it. I love how she says things and even how I have to figure them out sometimes and I really love it when only *I* know what she's saying. For the most part she's pretty clear but there are some that leave others saying "huh?" She is like a little bird parroting everything you say, which can be wildly funny but also not so good sometimes. Must watch my "oh crap" moments. If I tell the dogs "no" or to "hush", she runs to the gate and shakes her finger at them and snaps "husss!" That's happened so often, she does it on her own now. The most glorious thing is that a couple of weeks ago, on her own for the first time she said "I yuv you" when she gave me a hug. Tears immediately welled up in my eyes as my heart melted into a pool. Maybe at 2, it's just that she's heard me say it to her so much, but no matter the reason, those were the sweetest three words my ears and heart have ever heard. Ahhhh....



My sweet Ella is two years old now,which is hard to choke down. I often think "could she really have been here two whole years?" and oddly other times I think "hasn't this been my life forever?" This ride has been wild. In two short years, she's gone from this tiny, red screaming (and I mean SCREAMING-you can't even fathom) newborn, to a cuddly, chubby cheeked baby then a little wobbly toddler and now a walking, talking, dare I say it...little girl. Wow. Just wow.



And it's been two years since we said goodbye to Logan. This year caught me completely off guard. Obviously I knew I would be sad, but I thought that it would be better than last year, a progression of lesser grief. Um, no. It was actually much more difficult. Maybe because I felt I needed to hide it more? I'm not sure the reason, but my heart ached so badly for him. So badly. I wanted him here where he belongs, beside his sister. I think one of THE hardest things for me in all of this is to watch Ella with other children. I am of course always sad for myself, but watching Ella play with her cousins or watching her interact with the kids at daycare when I pick her up absolutely crushes me. I sit and watch her on the playground from the car sometimes and it takes my breath away. I am insanely angry and even jealous of those children who have siblings. Thank goodness I don't have to be around any twins, I don't think I could ever handle THAT. Hats off to those who have lost a twin and have other sets of twins in their families (I know a few who are in that situation) because I don't know that I could endure that.

I've rambled on enough. My baby is growing up...

Has it almost been two years?

It really seems almost impossible that in about 3 months my Ella will turn 2 years old, or that it's been that long since we said goodbye to Logan. In so many ways it seems like ages ago, but in many more ways it seems like just yesterday I held such a sweet, precious, tiny, wiggly 6 lb. 11 oz. baby girl in my arms. She is still sweet and precious and wiggly, but not anywhere near tiny! My girl is 29 pounds now. I put together a progression picture of her in her original carseat. (1st picture-1 week old, 2nd picture-5 months old, 3rd picture-20,almost 21 months old)



Looking at that makes me realize JUST how much she's grown. And she has grown in more ways than one. She is such a funny little thing. Her expressions are all over the place and she never fails to make daddy and I both laugh. She gives the best kisses and hugs and while we certainly have our moments (um, daily) she is still the most amazing little creature and I cannot imagine, cannot even momentarily FATHOM, my life without her. It is still very surreal, to know that she is mine. It still feels (in an odd, foggy way) like it's not really real. Having spent so many years feeling like I would never have this-ever- it is hard to wrap myself around the fact - even almost two years later - that I do. I really do. She is mine. All mine. I have it. I will always be missing a piece of me because I will forever miss my boy Logan. But Ella fills me in a way I couldn't have ever anticipated. I imagine if he were here as well, I would be bursting at the seams. Oh, how I wish that were so!

She thinks not...

So you want to sleep in on your day off? Just a hair past 6:30 maybe? Please? Ella says "I think NOT, mommy..I'm ready to party at 5:00 today!"

As Mikes alarm clock went off for the 30th time this morning, Ella started the wiggling and thrashing. Around about time #40, she lost it, at which point Daddy went to get her milk and bring it back to her (what takes him so long in there,considering the cup is sitting out on the counter-courtesy of me-I'll never know, but I digress). So she gets her milk, but this does not lull her back to sleep, as it is supposed to do. She lays quietly for a few (moments not minutes, I couldn't be so lucky) and then starts this weird running-in-place motion, and of course my stomach is her road. So I turn over and say "shhhh, night night". My back then becomes her turf. Again, me with the "Shhhhh! Be STILL! Night night!". Well, that was the WRONG thing to say to her. This triggered a signature-Ella overly dramatic meltdown. How DARE I tell her to be still, to shush her, to expect her to sleep at this hour? I will admit, I was beyond frustrated by now. I thought back to my mom and dad telling me to "be still" when I layed with them, and I silently gave them apologies for my obviously rude bed-behavior. Once I got her calmed and laying back down, the runnng-in-place resumed, but I decided to pretend it was some sort of new age West African back massage. I got to the point where it wasn't bothering me (as much) and I tried to force myself back to a sleepy state. I figured if I could just get back to SLEEP, then I wouldn't notice any of this. And JUST as I started to drift, Ella decided to tell me a story...a very ANIMATED, very LOUD story, might I add. And apparently, she was into the whole West African role playing because that was EXACTLY the language she chose to speak in for her narrative!

Since this story apparently was slated to continue for at least, oh, the next forever, I bolted up from bed and began our day. And wouldn't you know it, Ella got sleepy shortly thereafter, at about 7:30 a.m.!!!


Ahhhhh....no rest for the weary (or for the mother of Ella Ann apparently)

sweetness sleeps

Say what you want about Ella sleeping with me every night, but I really couldn't ask for more than to look at her chubby little face while she sleeps. There is nothing sweeter than a child sleeping. Wait, let me rephrase. There is nothing sweeter than MY child, my Ella, sleeping. Sometimes I sit and marvel at her perfection, even after maybe spending a day dealing with what feels like imperfection (my own of course). She is perfect. She could not be any MORE perfect. She will surely disappointment me, anger me, frustrate me, all of which I am sure (I know) I have done, did, and do to my parents, but she is still my perfect, sweet Ella Ann.

Watching her sleep is one of my greatest joys. It feels almost like time is suspended. Her eyes moving behind her lids, or not moving at all. Her perfect little lips making sucking motions and noises, even when her binky has long before fallen out of her mouth and onto the mattress. Her little sighs every now and then, her leg being thrown on top of me or her arms reaching up to grab me, even as she sleeps, and pull me closer, tighter. It is all perfection. I will miss it all one day, I know. I hope she doesn't think I'm crazy in a few years when I undoubtedly will sneak into her room just to catch a glimpse of her sleeping. She probably will, but one day, I hope she understands.

I don't know if it is the nature of the journey it took to get here, to get her- or if it has to do with losing her precious brother which ultimately brought to mind the thought and fear and possibility and what ifs of having lost them both, or what exactly it is.....maybe (and most likely) it's just that I'm just a big ol' sap, but it so often feels like I am the only person in the world to have been brought to this level of love and amazement, adoration and appreciation. I am not so confident to say that this is the case, but it feels that way.

Sometimes I wonder....you always here mothers say how precious their children are. But somewhere along the way, while of course they always love them, everything changes. Day to day life or does your heart change too? I hope not because I never want to feel any differently than I do now when I watch my perfect child sleep and dream and cling tighter to me.

It's been a while, no?

Over a month. And there I said I was going to keep up with this! Ah well..

Not a whole lot going on. I'm kind of in a weird place, but I won't get into that because frankly, I don't feel like it. Ella is going through some sort of phase, or at least I hope to God it's a phase! She's been incredibly difficult and throwing tantrums. I thought it was her teeth, I thought it was her ears, but she's been to the ped and her ears are fine (tubes still in-yay) and while it *could* be teeth related, I think maybe it's just early terrible twos? I've read that it's normal for tantrumming to begin around 18 months and I'm hoping that's all it is. It's hard to think "oh this is normal" when #1-you have no idea what normal is since you're a first time mom and #2- you see other children her age NOT behaving that way. But then I've talked to many others with little ones Ellas age and many of those moms are experiencing the same thing. And the ped says it's normal. So maybe it's normal after all? Or maybe it's just her little personality? She's definitely stubborn and OVERLY sensitive (gee, I wonder where she gets that?). I don't know if I was that way as a child, and my mother in law SWEARS that Mike was NOT like this (but I'm not sure how much she remembers!-sorry, Mooneian, you really don't remember a lot! ha)

Anyway, it is what it is. We're trying to work through it. I'll be ordering a book about parenting a sensitive child, because I do think she's highly sensitive.

*sigh* Who knew it would be this difficult and exhausting at times?

Despite the issues, she of course is my sweet little Ella and can be the most loving, sweet, happy, funny girl you've ever seen (just ignore the moments where she's throwing herself to the ground or swatting at you because you won't give her another cookie because she has already shoved 30 into her mouth). I don't have a lot of new pictures, but I'll add a few I do have. This little girl makes my world go round, sometimes too fast, sometimes too bumpily, but she makes it turn always. And she never fails every day (multiple times a day) to make me smile and to be thankful I even HAVE a child to be frustrated with. I will never take for granted that I might have never had her (or her brother). She is that special and I am that lucky and I won't ever forget that.

Now for photos....

whatchoo talkin' bout Willis? (this was at the city Easter Egg hunt just before she grabbed the camera, slammed it to the ground and broke it - thus we are reduced to pictures via only our cell phones now-thanks sunshine!)

Ellas signature face. She squenches (is that a word?) her lips up like that ALL. THE. TIME.

here she was wearing daddys (yes, dirty) socks and it was so funny!

Oh, at Ellas ped visit, they did the ritual weighing and measuring, of course. She weighs 28 lbs. 8 oz, which is about the 92nd percentile for her age, and she's grown to 32 and 1/4 inches, which is about 63rd percentile for her age (up quite a bit from her last appointment, so she's grown quite a bit taller) and 19 inch head circumfrence which is the 89th percentile. So my big baby with the big head! I love it! Healthy as a horse!

9 years!

Yesterday was mine and Mikes 9 year wedding anniversary! We were married March 03, 2001 at my parents home in Baytown. My parents sang a beautiful duet that I will treasure forever and family friend Don Cunningham performed the ceremony. Both of those things made our wedding so very special to me (and obviously, getting married was special too...ha).

In some ways it seems like the last nine years have gone by in the blink of an eye and in many other ways it seems a lifetime ago. We have come so far, in our relationship and marriage and selves, and found a very peaceful, loving and comfortable place. It amazes me how very much he loves both Ella and Logan. I always knew he would be a good daddy, I could see how much he loved kids and our journey through infertility found him longing for them almost as much as myself. (and that's a level most men don't reach, let me tell ya).

We made it through those years and have endured something most couples don't have to endure, the loss of our sweet boy Logan, who we wanted more than anything. It has undoubtedly made us stronger in so many ways. We learned we had to lean on each other, and we did.

Anyway, I love you Mike. Thank you for the last 9 years.

Here is a picture of our little family last night before Mike and I went to dinner (Ella was a bit upset because we were leaving). We didn't exchange gifts (as agreed), but I did get a nice bouquet of 9 red roses and a lovely card. Mike just got a card. Tough being a man isn't it?