It's been one year to the DAY since I posted on this blog. Kinda weird, but not at all surprising the days it strikes me.
Sometime between September 26 and October 5th is when my sweet Logan died. Most likely it was this weekend sometime, 5 years ago. FIVE years ago. I say it every year and it nothing ever changes, other than the number. It's been HOW long? I cannot believe so many years have passed since I was told he was gone, delivered him, held his little body and said goodbye. So many years since my little tiny Ella was placed in my arms only hours later, and the edges of this huge hole that the loss of Logan had left inside of me began to cauterize, albeit agonizingly slowly and unfortunately, never completely. FIVE YEARS. Five years ago the doctor said "I can't find baby As heartbeat" and my whole world changed. Five years ago I lay crumpled (as crumpled as an 8 month pregnant-with-twins woman can be) and sobbing on the floor of the labor and delivery suite bathroom at Texas Womens Hospital telling my husband "I can't do this. I just can't do this" while my friends and motherinlaw sat outside the door, while my parents raced through the night to get to me.
Five years ago that they prepped me to deliver the babies, one dead and one alive.
I am so grateful for my Ella. So unbelievably grateful for what she has brought to my life. She has made me a better person, a more thoughtful person, a more loving person. She has given me the name "mommy" and changed my whole life (in mind and body and spirit) in ways that I could never fully explain...at least not well enough to show my truly undying gratitude and overwhelming love for this creature given to me....to ME, of all people. I love her with my whole being, and even more so, if that's possible. I can look at her and know that she is my purpose, that she is a gift I don't deserve, but that for whatever reason, I was granted anyway. To love her-to love Ella-is to love a little piece of Gods greatest perfection. She is so funny and smart and kind and loving. She cares about me, about my feelings, she cares about animals and their feelings, she cares about the world and whether it's raining enough for the flowers to be able to grow, and whether the squirrel on the road has a mommy or the dog walking down the street has enough to eat. She is nothing short of amazing. It is the word I use most to describe her and there really IS no better one to utilize when it comes to her. It IS my daughter - she IS the word. Amazing.
And yet, how ungrateful I feel when I am smacked upside my head with grief, when I go to that dark place of sadness inside of myself, my own personal hell. How ungrateful am I to feel empty when I, at the same time, know I am SO VERY FULL? And I am. I am very. much. full. But there is a whole other part of me that is completely empty. While there is one part of me that sees nothing but happiness for the gift that IS my Ella, there is another part of me that sees nothing but the empty space next to her vibrant, bouncing little self. A space that was meant to be filled with her brother, with my son, my Logan. I cannot see her playing or dancing, swinging a bat or riding a bike, without seeing that empty place next to her, the place meant for him. It's insane how an EMPTY space can take up so. much. room. And be SO visible, and so LOUD.
I held him my one and only time when he was a baby, a tiny little 5 lbs. 5 oz. thing. The life already gone from his little body, his spirit already joined with those before him in heaven. But he would be a boy now. A beautiful, maybe smelly, maybe headstrong, maybe blue eyed, maybe green eyed, maybe brown eyed, little boy. I will never know. I will never know what two TIMES the amazement I have now, would be like. I have no idea what his strengths would be or what his challenges would be. What kind of mother to two *I* would even be. This holds me back even now. This has held me back for the past 5 years. We could have used our frozen embryos at any point over the last few years, but I couldn't bring myself to. A lingering little doubt in my mind whispers "maybe you weren't MEANT to be a mother to two, maybe you couldn't HANDLE it and that's why he's gone". Oh the number of reasons I have come up with in my head over the years as to WHY it happened. I couldn't handle two, something was wrong with him and therefore he left before he ever began, something WILL be wrong with Ella and therefore I am to focus my whole self on her before I lose her too, something is wrong with ME and it will happen again were I to try to have another baby. Of course I am also just plain scared. Good old sheer terror consumes me when it comes to trying again. The places the mind can go can only be understood by someone who has walked this long and sometimes VERY desolate road.
I wish more than anything (besides wishing him HERE) that people could understand. When you carry two, and you plan for two, and you decorate a nursery for two, and buy clothes for two and dream for two and you name and sing and TALK to two and then you only come home with one? When the other one is yanked so viciously and so suddenly from your life and dreams? You can only crumble and break. You can only wonder why. What was the purpose? What is the larger picture, the larger meaning? I don't know if there is one. I really don't. Maybe there's not. Maybe it just happened. Sh*t happens, right? Maybe that's all it is. But why still? Why me and not someone else? Why are there such WORTHLESS mothers out there who have ALL of their children and I am deprived of one of mine? One can't help but consider that there is something wrong with ones SELF in that instance. I have considered it, and punished myself repeatedly for it (whether justified or not) over and over again.
So where to go from here. I don't know. Oh I will survive October 5th and 6th 2013, just like I have survived October 5th and 6th in 2012, 2011, 2010, 2009 and even 2008. I will move forward and everyone else might remember him on that day if I post about it on facebook or I cry in a text or on the phone, but me? His mother who loves him beyond what words can describe? I will remember him EVERY day. I will carry my sweet, perfect, beautiful little boy in my heart forever. For ever and for always my baby he'll be.
A slideshow I put together not long after losing Logan, about my journey.....,
The journey, to and of, my babies.....
Sunday, September 29, 2013
Saturday, September 29, 2012
09/23/12
So yeah, I'm pretty much the worst 'blogger' (and I use that term loosely) like ever. I apologize. To practically no one since this is basically just ramblings to myself!
I seem to run here when I'm sad, needing to let things out. Why I don't just keep a journal in Word is beyond me. Maybe I'll do that. I certainly could say more of what I really wanted to say. I tend to filter myself no matter WHAT the forum/venue.
*sigh*
I am sad. Of course. It's September 23rd. It's getting closer to THE day. October 5th, the day it all changed. I really hate this time of year. From the time of the anniversary of my Pappaws death (and even a bit before) I am kicked into a depressive state. I'm remembering and counting. "Four years ago today, I ________" (fill in the blank with everything from "had my baby shower" or "was still pregnant and Logan was still alive" to "saw my Pappaw for the last time)
I'm doing okay on the outside: I don't think one would ever know (unless they knew me well). I adore my daughter, I have the most fun with her, she makes me smile, makes me laugh, keeps my eyes bright and my heart beating.
But there is obviously (to me, anyway) a part of me that is missing, that is empty. And there are no rules as to when that fact will hit me, bump me or damn near run me down and over. Often when I'm having the BEST moment with Ella, I am stabbed with that pang of sadness, longing, wishing I had that happiness with him TOO. Not in the absence of her, just in ADDITION to (the way it should have been). And when my Ella is having a bad day, when she cries about wanting to play with someone, I am almost knocked over with my grief. I am equally as sad for my daughter as I am for myself. It is no more fair to her than it is to me.
There are times I rage and rage and rage inside, I am so undescribably angry. There are times I am so overwhelmed that I feel like I am underwater and just NEED to get to the surface to breathe and I just can't find my way up. And yet still, there are times I am just plain overcome with sadness. A heaviness that just sits on me, getting heavier and heavier.
It's all the same. 4 years is the same as 3, same as 2, as 1. He's still not here, I still am. Ella is still missing her brother, I am still missing my son. I still can't hold him, I still can't touch him, I still don't know what color his eyes are. I still can't see him ride a tricycle, swim in a pool, laugh at silliness, fight with his sister, HUG his sister (oh God I'd kill to see that) or hug ME. I still can't watch him sleep, tell him to clean up his room, fix his dinner for him. I still can't watch him take a bath, brush his teeth, put his shoes on, run at the park, slide or swing, and on and on and on. I still can't do any of that. And I miss it all. God, I miss it all. I never had it and I miss it even still, what I never had with him.
How do you explain that to someone who hasn't been there? I guess you don't. You can spill your guts about it all, but they never 'get' it. Maybe because they can't, maybe because they don't want to. Who knows. I can barely explain it to myself, at least not in any way that makes sense. I ask myself the same things that others probably want to ask. "Why can't you move on?" and "It's been almost 4 years, what's wrong with you?". There are no answers, none that work. I don't KNOW what's wrong with me, other than I want him with every fiber of my being.
One thing that is so hard to explain to others, when they see me break down, is that it's not LIKE this day in and day out. It's a snapshot into what I feel, yes. The wind can be knocked out of me in an instant and bring me to my knees in pain at any time with grief. But I am not completely broken (though I often feel it). As I said before, I have the best time with my daughter. I love her with an intensity I'd have never believed possible. She is amazing, in every way. She is so beautiful and so sweet and kind, and so funny! She makes me laugh daily.
oh god I'm rambling. I suck at "blogging". Word is seeming even more and more appropriate.
09/29/12
So we had our small party here for Ella today since we'll be out of town next weekend for the actual birthday. Ella and I were in her room this morning and she asked me when Logans birthday is. I explained (again) that his birthday is the same as hers, that they were in my belly together. She was fascinated and asked how they both fit, who was where, etc. Then she played a few seconds, stopped, looked at me and said "I wished Logan didn't halfta be in heaven". KNIFE TO THE HEART. She has never before gotten that 'specific' with it all. I think she's putting more things together (obviously the older she gets). But wait, there's more. I choked back my own tears and told her "oh honey, I wish he was here too" and she said "maybe he would play with me and we could play together and he would like me?". How do you answer that? I am in absolutely unchartered territory here. I told her "He loves you Ella and I know if he was here, you would have had the best time. But he's always with you in your heart and it's okay to wish he was here". I don't want to make her SAD about him not being here, but I also can't really say "no, you wouldn't have ever played with him" to make her feel okay with him not being here. I don't know WHAT to say, but that's what I said.
So we had her little party, went to dinner, came back for cake and ice cream and then we all wrote on a balloon for Logan so that MIL could be a part of our balloon thing (she's always been here for it and we'll be gone at my parents next weekend). Ella asked if she could write on it too and so she wrote just her name (all she knows how to write). She released the balloon outside and yelled "Happy Birthday Logan! BYE!!!" and waved and waved at it and watched it til she couldn't see it anymore. I lost it crying and went inside to pull myself together. Then we went on with our evening. I put her in bed just a bit ago and layed down with her and she starts up again. She asked me what Logan looks like. If he looks like her. How do I answer these questions? I just said "I don't know honey, I think he probably looks a little bit like you, I know he did when he was a baby" and she asked if his hair is long like hers. I said I thought he probably would have shorter hair like Ayden (her cousin, my bros son), but that I don't know. She asked "and maybe we would play together like Ayden and Addie do?".
It's coming more and more and while I absolutely do NOT regret keeping Logan a part of our lives, I am kind of caught off guard with all of the questions NOW. I shouldn't be, but I am. And it breaks my fucking heart. I just breaks it right in fucking two. I could sit here and pour out all the rage and sadness I feel, but there's no point. It's all the same. I can just pull anything I've written from a year ago or two years ago or three years ago and it's the same. All the fucking same. He's never coming back. Not ever ever ever.
(excuse my language but I really don't care right now)
So yeah, I'm pretty much the worst 'blogger' (and I use that term loosely) like ever. I apologize. To practically no one since this is basically just ramblings to myself!
I seem to run here when I'm sad, needing to let things out. Why I don't just keep a journal in Word is beyond me. Maybe I'll do that. I certainly could say more of what I really wanted to say. I tend to filter myself no matter WHAT the forum/venue.
*sigh*
I am sad. Of course. It's September 23rd. It's getting closer to THE day. October 5th, the day it all changed. I really hate this time of year. From the time of the anniversary of my Pappaws death (and even a bit before) I am kicked into a depressive state. I'm remembering and counting. "Four years ago today, I ________" (fill in the blank with everything from "had my baby shower" or "was still pregnant and Logan was still alive" to "saw my Pappaw for the last time)
I'm doing okay on the outside: I don't think one would ever know (unless they knew me well). I adore my daughter, I have the most fun with her, she makes me smile, makes me laugh, keeps my eyes bright and my heart beating.
But there is obviously (to me, anyway) a part of me that is missing, that is empty. And there are no rules as to when that fact will hit me, bump me or damn near run me down and over. Often when I'm having the BEST moment with Ella, I am stabbed with that pang of sadness, longing, wishing I had that happiness with him TOO. Not in the absence of her, just in ADDITION to (the way it should have been). And when my Ella is having a bad day, when she cries about wanting to play with someone, I am almost knocked over with my grief. I am equally as sad for my daughter as I am for myself. It is no more fair to her than it is to me.
There are times I rage and rage and rage inside, I am so undescribably angry. There are times I am so overwhelmed that I feel like I am underwater and just NEED to get to the surface to breathe and I just can't find my way up. And yet still, there are times I am just plain overcome with sadness. A heaviness that just sits on me, getting heavier and heavier.
It's all the same. 4 years is the same as 3, same as 2, as 1. He's still not here, I still am. Ella is still missing her brother, I am still missing my son. I still can't hold him, I still can't touch him, I still don't know what color his eyes are. I still can't see him ride a tricycle, swim in a pool, laugh at silliness, fight with his sister, HUG his sister (oh God I'd kill to see that) or hug ME. I still can't watch him sleep, tell him to clean up his room, fix his dinner for him. I still can't watch him take a bath, brush his teeth, put his shoes on, run at the park, slide or swing, and on and on and on. I still can't do any of that. And I miss it all. God, I miss it all. I never had it and I miss it even still, what I never had with him.
How do you explain that to someone who hasn't been there? I guess you don't. You can spill your guts about it all, but they never 'get' it. Maybe because they can't, maybe because they don't want to. Who knows. I can barely explain it to myself, at least not in any way that makes sense. I ask myself the same things that others probably want to ask. "Why can't you move on?" and "It's been almost 4 years, what's wrong with you?". There are no answers, none that work. I don't KNOW what's wrong with me, other than I want him with every fiber of my being.
One thing that is so hard to explain to others, when they see me break down, is that it's not LIKE this day in and day out. It's a snapshot into what I feel, yes. The wind can be knocked out of me in an instant and bring me to my knees in pain at any time with grief. But I am not completely broken (though I often feel it). As I said before, I have the best time with my daughter. I love her with an intensity I'd have never believed possible. She is amazing, in every way. She is so beautiful and so sweet and kind, and so funny! She makes me laugh daily.
oh god I'm rambling. I suck at "blogging". Word is seeming even more and more appropriate.
09/29/12
So we had our small party here for Ella today since we'll be out of town next weekend for the actual birthday. Ella and I were in her room this morning and she asked me when Logans birthday is. I explained (again) that his birthday is the same as hers, that they were in my belly together. She was fascinated and asked how they both fit, who was where, etc. Then she played a few seconds, stopped, looked at me and said "I wished Logan didn't halfta be in heaven". KNIFE TO THE HEART. She has never before gotten that 'specific' with it all. I think she's putting more things together (obviously the older she gets). But wait, there's more. I choked back my own tears and told her "oh honey, I wish he was here too" and she said "maybe he would play with me and we could play together and he would like me?". How do you answer that? I am in absolutely unchartered territory here. I told her "He loves you Ella and I know if he was here, you would have had the best time. But he's always with you in your heart and it's okay to wish he was here". I don't want to make her SAD about him not being here, but I also can't really say "no, you wouldn't have ever played with him" to make her feel okay with him not being here. I don't know WHAT to say, but that's what I said.
So we had her little party, went to dinner, came back for cake and ice cream and then we all wrote on a balloon for Logan so that MIL could be a part of our balloon thing (she's always been here for it and we'll be gone at my parents next weekend). Ella asked if she could write on it too and so she wrote just her name (all she knows how to write). She released the balloon outside and yelled "Happy Birthday Logan! BYE!!!" and waved and waved at it and watched it til she couldn't see it anymore. I lost it crying and went inside to pull myself together. Then we went on with our evening. I put her in bed just a bit ago and layed down with her and she starts up again. She asked me what Logan looks like. If he looks like her. How do I answer these questions? I just said "I don't know honey, I think he probably looks a little bit like you, I know he did when he was a baby" and she asked if his hair is long like hers. I said I thought he probably would have shorter hair like Ayden (her cousin, my bros son), but that I don't know. She asked "and maybe we would play together like Ayden and Addie do?".
It's coming more and more and while I absolutely do NOT regret keeping Logan a part of our lives, I am kind of caught off guard with all of the questions NOW. I shouldn't be, but I am. And it breaks my fucking heart. I just breaks it right in fucking two. I could sit here and pour out all the rage and sadness I feel, but there's no point. It's all the same. I can just pull anything I've written from a year ago or two years ago or three years ago and it's the same. All the fucking same. He's never coming back. Not ever ever ever.
(excuse my language but I really don't care right now)
Monday, March 14, 2011
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
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
Monday, December 6, 2010
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...
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...
Sunday, June 27, 2010
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!
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!
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
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)
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)
Monday, April 19, 2010
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.
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.
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