Happy 4th Birthday!

Oh my dear sweet Reagan,

Happy 4th birthday love!  Four years ago you entered this world, making my dreams of becoming a mommy come true in a way we never imagined.  Not a day goes by that I don't think of you, don't feel the hole left by your absence.  I love you so much.  So much.

I remember everything about that day.  The fear of the unknown as we walked into labor and delivery unsure of what to expect, praying this would all be a mistake and we would be told you were actually okay.  I remember holding your Daddy's hand, seeing that final ultrasound, knowing then what was being asked of us but not understanding why.  I remember Daddy tenderly holding my hand, comforting me throughout labor, reading the psalms over us.  I remember how it felt to deliver you, the silence that followed.  But most of all, I remember how it felt to have you placed in my arms.  To look at your beautiful face, those long eyelashes and big pouty lips, and see us reflected in you.  You were the most beautiful little girl, so peaceful.  I remember rocking you, remember reading to you, remember singing you a lullaby.  Those hours are all I have this side of heaven.

As I sit here glancing at the few pictures I have of you, imagining your life and what you are doing, listening to How Deep the Father's Love and sipping coffee, my heart is overflowing.  I am so thankful God chose me to be your mommy.  So thankful for every second of time I was able to carry you and those precious hours I could hold you.  Your life has had such a profound impact on me, on your daddy, on those who have never met you.  It's such a mix of emotions today - on a day when we celebrate you while missing you.  I love that we have this special day for you.

So, today we celebrate you.  Hannah and I have already had a dance party - you would have loved it!  I can't wait to watch your video tonight and see you dancing again :).  And even more so, have a dance party in person when we are all reunited.  We have a cake all ready for you.  Dean helped me make the icing and Warren added the sprinkles.  I hope you can see that and hear them sing Happy Birthday with their sweet little voices.  We got you flowers today and finally put together your new garden.  It's such a special place where we can just smile as we remember you, another way you have impacted our lives.  And of course we each sent you a purple balloon with some sweet messages.  Dean was having a rough day, but in a tender moment decided to draw you and him holding hands on his balloon.

Thank you for making me a mommy sweet girl, for teaching me how to love.  I experienced such joy with you, and my life is richer with you as my daughter.  I love you baby girl!  Happy birthday!

Love always,

Mommy

Reminders

Facebook memories.  Most days I get a little reminder and see a fun note from an old friend, a picture of Andrew and I traveling, a video of the boys first walking.  Most of the time, it fills my heart, reminds me of how blessed we are.  But some days, it feels like I've been hit in the face with a brick.  I never choose to look at the memories in the weeks following Reagan's birth.  I know better than to look back and read the condolences, to see verses meant at comforting the gut retching pain, or to see my own words of despair.  It's been years, but it sure isn't any easier, and I still have to protect my heart.  But August?  August is one of my favorite memory months - with the boys in the NICU but growing stronger, experiencing so many firsts.  First time wearing clothes, first time breathing without tubes, first time taking a bottle, first time holding them both together without all the wires and tubes.  They still had a ways to come before they could come home with us, but these NICU days were incredible at showing us just how strong our little preemies were and just how miraculous life was in general.  So much we take for granted.

So today, I was completely caught off guard to see a memory of Reagan, our pregnancy announcement.  I was in that "safe zone."  I'd had 3 ultrasounds and knew she was growing well.  We'd heard the heartbeat, and I was moving into my maternity clothes.  How many years will go by before I stop feeling like my world is crashing down around me?  Does it ever?  Probably not...

Moving has been hard for many reasons.  To the outside world, I look like a mother who has her hands full.  Who has *that kid* who is screaming uncontrollably while throwing a crumbled cookie in Publix while the other one runs and grabs the avocados and starts dropping them on the floor while also wearing a crying baby.  I get stares and looks, though I've only ever had 1 person dumb enough to comment to me about where babies come from (if he only knew...).  Add to in the Florida humidity and a constant glistening of sweat, and I have all appearances of being an extremely fertile mother, with more than she can handle.  But the thing no one can see is how much I long for my first baby, how incomplete our family feels.  That I should also have a little girl about to turn 4, adding to the craziness. I hate that she doesn't exist here.  She still felt such a part of our lives in Charlotte - maybe because our friends knew us while I was pregnant with her and were praying for us while she was being born?  Maybe because we had just always imagined her running down the streets of our neighborhood, playing with the other little girls, swimming in the pool and having park dates. I never had those moments, those memories or hopes, in our new town.  And really, that's all we get with Reagan.  Memories and hopes, until we reach heaven.  And then I know (in my head) that it's all worth it, but my heart just can't seem to feel that some days.  I miss my Rea Rea, so much.

I have 4 children

How many children do you have?  This seemingly innocent, easy question still causes me to cringe.  I'm not quite sure how to answer.  If I answer truthfully, 4, the follow up is usually how old are they? As I've taken Hannah out and about while the boys are home or at the park, I tend to get asked "Is she your first."  Maybe something about me screams first time mom?  I get some looks of shock when I reply, no, she's my 4th.  And then that question...how old are they?  Sometimes it's easier to say 3 and twins who are 2.  Sometimes I'll say our oldest would be 3 and I have twins who are 2.  But sometimes I take the easy way out, particularly when I'm out with all 3 of these crazy kiddos, and I just say the 3 of them.  And then I'm hit with this wave of doubt, of guilt.  Reagan made me a mommy.  She made me feel this attachment and protectiveness I'd never felt before.  She made me into the woman I am today, the mom I am today.  And yet, I feel this pressure to pretend like she doesn't exist.  I hate that.

Since Hannah's birth, we've been able to bond.  Despite sleepless nights and stressful days, I love that little girl immeasurably.  She brings me great joy.  And yet, I feel a longing for Reagan even more.  Maybe it's simply that she's a girl.  That I think of my own sisters and the relationships we had and I know Hannah will never experience that with Reagan.  Maybe it's the sense of normalcy that was completely lacking after the boys were born, when I didn't have much time to just process through the emotions of having our rainbow babies.

Christmas season is especially hard.  Well, really, the entire holiday season, from Halloween (for obvious reasons) to Thanksgiving and Christmas.  It's all a reminder of this empty spot in our lives.  Another seat that should be around the table, eating turkey and pie.  A missing stocking hanging from the mantle.  Only 5 instead of 6.  One whole member of our family is just erased from our holiday pictures.  I want her to be included, I want her to be remembered.  She was born, I felt her kick in my belly for months, watched her heart flutter on ultrasounds, planned my life with her, and then held her still body in my arms.  The fact that she didn't get to take a breath outside me doesn't erase her life or her significance, doesn't mean she isn't just as much a part of my family as our other kids.

This is our 4th Christmas without Reagan.  How can that be? It seems like just yesterday I was holding her close.  Regardless, as the years go by, that empty spot does not.  The grief, the raw and gripping pain, the immeasurable sense of loss, are all still just as present this year as years past.  Our home is full of laughter and tiny feet, but one set is always missing.  One blonde girl dressed in purple is dancing in heaven instead of with her mommy.  Nothing changes that.

I have 4 children.  I have 2 girls and 2 boys.  I did not "finally get a girl," I already have one.  She's being cared for by her heavenly Father instead of her earthly parents.  But she is still very much our daughter.

Happy 3rd Birthday!

Happy 3rd birthday sweet girl!  Some days it seems like just days ago you were dancing away in my tummy, loving life and content.  Sometimes though it seems like forever ago, so long since I was able to see your beautiful face.  I never know quite how to feel on your birthday.  There is so much sorrow, such heartbreak, as I long so desperately to hold you again, to hear you laugh, to see you smile and dance and play.  There is so much I am missing out on by not knowing you now.  And as the years move forward, I am continually reminded of all the milestones I miss.  I hate that.  And yet, today, we get to celebrate you.  We don't grieve without a purpose, for we know Jesus is holding you close right now. 

I will never forgot those precious hours together in the hospital.  The moment I became a mother, as my heart leapt with joy as the nurse gently laid you in my arms.  I remember what it felt like to just breathe you in, to love you so completely, to fall so hard in a matter of seconds.  You were already gone, but there was something just so special, so wonderful, about the first time I was able to hold you.  You were so tiny, so incredibly tiny.  But everything was perfectly formed, knit together in my womb.  My heart, though shattered and broken, was incredibly full.  I still feel that as I remember our special time together.

I can picture you then, looking so very much like your mommy, so peaceful.  I still find myself clinging to your pink blanket when I miss you, closing my eyes and picturing exactly how you looked in that moment.  And I can picture you as you must look now, so happy and full of life, dancing in heaven with Jesus, with your other siblings and family members.  You are such a blessed little girl to never endure this broken world, to go straight to the arms of your Savior.  I cannot wait until the day when I can see you again, when I can dance right along side of you, when I can embrace you with you hugging me back.  Oh, the joy.

It is hard to celebrate a birthday when the birthday princess is missing.  But we are doing our best.  Today, we weren't able to go up to the mountains as we would have loved, as your baby sister should be joining us any day.  But we did enjoy this brisk fall morning and took your crazy brothers up to the park.  We had a picnic by the water, with the leaves changing color all around us.  It was beautiful.  And we sent you some balloons - this time we got 2 lighter purple ones that W&D picked out.  I made you a strawberry cake (it's really good) that we'll get to enjoy after dinner.  And we'll do your birthday cards tonight and add them to your memory box.  Dean asked that his be purple and specifically requested to have stickers he could put on them.  Let's see if we can find some that are not Halloween related :)  I hate that you are not here to celebrate with us, but I trust you are having quite a celebration in Heaven.  And I pray that you are able to see a glimpse of what we are doing here, and that you always know you are cherished and loved on earth as well.

With immeasurable love,

Mommy

3 years later

Three years ago, nearly to the minute, I got the news that rocked my world.  My daughter had passed away.  As I stared at her profile on the ultrasound, she still looked just perfect.  Perfect upturned nose, little chin.  But she was still.  Her chest was empty; no flicker where we had just seen one the week before.  That image, forever burned into my mind.  The doctor glanced away and murmured "I'm so sorry" before stepping out to let me call Andrew.  How do you even begin to say the words, to communicate to my unsuspecting husband that the appointment we thought nothing of would change our lives forever?  To wait for him to rush down so we can hold each other.  As I am sitting here, I feel my heart being ripped out all over again.  Surely there must be some mistake.  I still just want there to be some mistake.  To go back in time and fix it all so my baby girl can be here playing right alongside her brothers.  I want them to know her, to know her laugh and her little blonde curls and her smile.  To not just know of her.  As the years are moving on, it doesn't get any easier.  The grief is still there, breaking me.  I sometimes feel like I'm a shell of who I used to be, a piece of me is always missing and it's so hard to live life like that. 

I am so thankful she was not born on the same day, that we have a separate day when we can celebrate her birth, her brief life, and all she means to us.  I'm glad for these quiet moments, when my children are sleeping and I can just sit here and allow myself to feel again, to let myself go back to that moment, to let the tears come and not hide from them, to not have to be strong for anybody and just let myself miss my daughter with my whole being.  It does nothing to bring her back, but it helps me to celebrate her with more joy tomorrow.  Today is my sad day, tomorrow we're having a birthday party with the boys for their big sister. 

Letting it go

My heart is heavy this morning.  I am not entirely sure why.  I love Reagan's Garden, love reaching out to families and trying to find some way to give them a glimpse of hope and peace through their loss.  Last night, I sat and made another round of cards to be delivered with the flowers.  I feel such heartache at knowing these cards will go to women who are in labor at that very moment with a child who will never survive.  It breaks my heart.  And my words, my thoughts written in each card, seem so insignificant.  Seem so wrong.  It's not enough.  There are literally no words, nothing to help in that moment.  Each card has a verse that carried me through written at the bottom...the Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit -Psalm 34:18.  How wonderful it is that this is true, that God is close to us when we need Him most.  That he saves us when we are crushed in spirit.  THIS is the only thing that provides comfort, peace in our creator.  I feel utterly insignificant and incompetent at relaying this truth.

And, though I know this truth, though I wholeheartedly believe Christ is the only reason I have any peace and hope, that because of His sacrifice I know my story with Reagan is not yet over, I still feel overwhelming bitterness.  I am still angry with God for my pregnancy history.  For infertility, for miscarriage, for stillbirth, for the stress of thinking we would lose Warren and Dean throughout the entire pregnancy, for prolonged bed rest, for a world of micro preemies, for knowing so well what the inside of a NICU looks like.  And on and on it goes.  For some reason, I feel I deserve better.  Haven't I struggled enough? When will it get easier?  Does it ever?  I don't have answers to that, I don't understand why our journey was so difficult and filled with such pain.  I don't understand why those who don't "deserve" it have easy lives, easy pregnancies, easy babies who SLEEP.  And I hold that bitterness in my heart, letting it shape my outlook on life.  It's not healthy.  It doesn't bring Samuel or Reagan back.  It doesn't give me wonderful, warm and fuzzy pregnancy memories with the boys.  It doesn't reduce their delays or cut back on their therapies.  It simply makes me miserable and sad.  It makes me feel uncomfortable around people in their 3rd trimester, or people with healthy babies, or people with little girls.  I truly do not want anyone to have to go through all we did, and yet, I don't want it to be easy for anyone else.  What does that say about me?  What does that say about my sinful heart?  I am broken.  Completely and utterly broken.  And though I know and trust that the Lord is in control and that His plan is GOOD, I second guess Him and think I could have done it better.  So today, my prayers is that I would let it go.  That I would truly rejoice with families who welcome another little one into their families.  Whether through trials of infertility or by accident, that I would find joy when my friends announce pregnancies.  That I would be able to look at little girls without such a gut-wrenching pain in my chest, a literal take-your-breath away feeling as I continue to grieve for Reagan.  I have learned these past 2+ years that I cannot do it on my own.  I must let it go, surrender to Christ, and let Him carry me instead.  I must rest in His peace, knowing His grace is sufficient for me.  So, so difficult for me to do.  And even harder to do on a regular basis.  But for today, for this moment, I am letting it go.  And maybe tomorrow God will give me the strength to do it again.

Birthday Weekend Celebration

We have really enjoyed a wonderful weekend away with the boys, celebrating Reagan's short life and the joy she has brought us.  The weather didn't cooperate quite like we were expecting but the snow did hold off until late on Friday.  We enjoyed a beautiful drive through the mountains with every color imaginable on the mountainside - gorgeous fall leaves of red, orange, and gold.  It was breathtaking.  I would never have known a) that it was so cold outside and b) that we were hours away from snowfall.

We started our time in Blowing Rock with a balloon release, picnic lunch, and temper tantrums.

Once the bellies were full, we headed into town for the traditional trip to Kilwins.  I purchased a chunk of the best fudge ever.  Andrew bought ice cream (yes, it was in the 40s outside, and yes, he ate it all).  This allowed the boys to have their very first EVER taste of ice cream.  Nothing but the best for my babies!  And they LOVED it, signing "more" after each bite.  And then there were the temper tantrums once Mommy said all done.  Poor little guys, couldn't understand why they couldn't have more of such a good thing.  Tough life lessons learned at a young age.

Early Saturday morning, we woke to beautiful, freshly-fallen snow.  We briefly let the boys play outside and captured a glimpse of the pure joy on Warren's face.  Such a blessing to raise these boys!

And then we thought, we're so close, why not head to Sky Top for some apple cider donuts??  No line today!  And, to continue the weekend of spoiling our boys all-natural, sugar-free diet, we thought we'd give them a taste.  Yummy!

Ok, so Warren definitely shows off when a camera is around.  Most of the time.  And we get those adorable, dimpled grins.  Dean, well, he's less photogenic (though equally as cute in person) and with Dean, what you see is what you get.  So, that's him enjoying his mouthful of donut in a less-cute though more realistic fashion.  Just so you don't think Warren is always making that angelic face, in the spirit of fairness...

Happy 2nd Birthday

Reagan,

Happy birthday my love!  You are turning two today - two!  It sounds so big to me, especially as I look at your younger brothers.  And the time has just passed in a blur.  But, forever in my mind, always easy for me to picture, is your precious little face.  Exactly as you looked 2 years ago.

The day you were born was difficult to say the least, full of uncertainty and pain.  But, oh the joy.  I remember distinctly my heart doing this little flutter when I first laid eyes on you.  I still remember those eyelashes, those peaceful eyes, and of course the pouty lips.  We often think you would have looked so much like Dean.  I can picture your smile, your blonde curly hair bouncing as you run through heaven.  I am so sad I am not there to celebrate with you today, but I know you are having an absolute blast.  I can't wait to see what birthdays are like in heaven - what kind of wonderful gifts you receive, what you get to learn and experience, and how special it must be to get hugs and kisses from your Heavenly Father.  You are one lucky little girl!

Knowing that, knowing how vibrant and full your life is, makes things so much easier for us.  Though I would still chose things differently, I know with confidence your life was meant for eternity.  And that brings me immeasurable peace.  So, the four of us are celebrating your birthday as much as we can down here.  We're visiting the last happy place you went - Blowing Rock.  We absolutely love it and are glad we are not house bound this year.  We have purple balloons (of course) to send up to you.  Mommy made you the most delicious strawberry cupcakes (with super yummy buttercream frosting, from scratch!).  Your brothers even made you cards and did the coloring all by themselves.  They're very special, and we'll put them in your memory box for safe keeping.  We'll watch the videos of you dancing away tonight.  And though it always makes us cry, it reminds us of how happy you were.  It reminds us you have only known love and there was no suffering in your life.

We are so incredibly proud to be your parents, to know how much your life has touched others.  We are so thankful God is using you and your precious time here on earth to change others, to change us most of all.  We love you so very much, Reagan.  So much.  Not a day goes by that we don't miss you, and we can't wait to see you again!

Happy second birthday, Rea Rea!!  Mommy and Daddy love you always!

Anticipation

The anticipation of Reagan's birthday was so much harder last year than her actual birthday.  I am praying that is the case again this year.  Two years ago today I was relatively carefree in my pregnancy.  I went about my work day normally and stopped in for a check-up on my way home.  Two years ago today I saw the image that is still burned in my mind, forever in my mind.  Reagan's empty chest.  The place where, just the week before, her heart had been fluttering away.  The sense of disbelief, shock, horror.  And the overwhelming, crushing guilt.  That I had done something wrong, missed something I should have picked up on.  A mother should know her child, should know if something was wrong.  I didn't have a clue.  How could I be that out of touch?  How could I have missed something so profound?

October 30, for me, is much harder of a day.  This is the anniversary of all things awful, of the pain and emptiness.  Today marks 2 years since my world forever changed.  Today, immersing myself in planning for Reagan's Garden, getting ready for her birthday, packing for our trip, well, it's not enough.  I can't get that image out of my mind, can't wrap my head around it all.  Two years later, I still don't have answers to my why questions.  I still don't understand why some have it so easy and others don't, why some children die and others don't.  So, I'm going back to the one place I can find rest: Christ.  I am leaning heavily on Him today to carry me through, to remind me constantly that Reagan is loved and cared for.  That He is giving her all the hugs and kisses she needs until I can join her.  I'm back outside with my tea, Reagan's newly planted garden, basking in the warm of the early morning sun, and reading about heaven.  Trying again to grasp all my baby girl is doing and learning and loving. Trying not to let myself break again that she is doing all that without me, because I will have all of eternity to catch up.

October

Ugh.  It's October 1.  Sigh.  I don't even know where to begin as I think about all this month holds for us.

It's the official start to isolation, year 2.  No indoor activities.  No being around other children, having other children in our home.  Flu shots and immunizations all around.  No more running out to the store to pick up some groceries, no trips to Target.  On the positive, no more awkward comments..."Are those twins?" "You're hands must be full!" "Are they natural?" "Really? They're 15 months? But they're so small."  The little old ladies at Publix always light up when they see the boys and like to tell me about raising their own children.  But most people just say the most ridiculous things.

I'm not sure what to expect this flu season.  Last year, I wouldn't have gone anywhere even if I could.  Where would I take 2 infants?  Infants who screamed constantly, nursed for nearly an hour each session, Warren with his colic/reflux.  Nope, no way was I going anywhere.  But this year, this year they are more self sufficient.  They want to explore, love going to new places.  They no longer nurse during the day, so I'm not restricted by that for the first time in over a year.  It's going to be a challenge.  Finding the right activities, exposing them to new things and learning opportunities while keeping them away from any risk of illness.  Who knows, it may be easier than I'm anticipating.  I may find an outlet some other way since their isolation is essentially my own as well.  Too bad PT doesn't have a work from home option!

And then, hitting me like a ton of bricks today, is Reagan's birthday at the end of the month.  I'd love to spend the day up in the mountains, breathing in the crisp air, walking the trails we walked together as a family 2 years ago.  But...isolation.  Boys can't go indoors, we couldn't stay in a hotel.  And being away from them on her birthday doesn't make it better either, so we're not going to leave them home with family while we take the time to grieve.  Maybe we'll find a way to do it, rent a house that hasn't had anyone in it for the week before to limit their exposure.  Because the last thing I want is to be home on the night of Halloween, watching all the Disney princess costumes parade around the street, hearing the little girls giggling, longing for more moments we won't ever get to experience with our daughter.

Anger

Some days are just hard. Anymore, most days are hard, but some days are harder. I am only beginning to realize how much anger I have buried down deep. Here I am, closing in on 2 years later, and I just want to scream "why?!?"  Why is life so hard?  Why is our world so broken? Why do some people endure such heartache and loss while others move along, blissfully unaware of the hurt around them? I don't get it. It isn't fair. Or just. And it makes me question everything that has held me together in these past months. When does the agony end? How are God's plans greater than mine?  I don't see his sovereignty right now. Or his goodness. I am completely overwhelmed by it all.

And yet, I KNOW it to be true. I know I cannot rely on my emotions, which are fleeting and fickle. I have experienced first hand the glimmer of peace and hope that come from knowing Jesus. I know my suffering and the suffering of those around me is due to our broken world, a product of sin. It doesn't make it easier in these late hours when I can't seem to sleep, it doesn't make me feel better, but one day it will. One day it will all be better. But today? Today I'm allowing myself a few hours of anger before I have to pull it together for my children. Today, I'm allowing myself a moment to feel selfish and I grieve the loss of my dreams and plans.  Tomorrow is another day.

Summer travels

Let me start by saying I am so proud of my little travelers!  We've now taken 2 "vacations" with them and both have done wonderful.  (I use the term vacation loosely as I end up doing the exact same thing each day where ever we are.  And "vacation" has added stressors of them not being in their own room or being able to run around like usual.)

We kicked off the end of their birthday week and 4th of July with a trip to the mountains with the Savant side of the family.  It was so fun to watch Andrew relive his childhood trips with his boys.  And I know it will only get better as Warren & Dean are able to go on the hikes, eat the Kilwins ice cream, pick out their candy from the Mast General Store, etc.  We tried to do as much as we could with them (though no hikes or ice cream this year!)  But we did enjoy a nice picnic in Blowing Rock, playing in the creak at Price Lake park, and even suckers from the Candy Barrel.  I have some sweet-tooth boys to deal with in the future!

 Loving the creek!

Daredevil Dean isn't as sure about this cold water...

This past weekend, we flew (germs, germs everywhere!) to Kansas City to visit the Ferguson side of the family and for Ashley's wedding.  My grandparents and extended family were finally able to meet Warren & Dean for the first time!  They did phenomenal on the flight there.  I kept waiting for the meltdown that never came.  Such big boys!  No problems with air pressure or being cooped up that long.  We landed and they were able to get some energy out at the pool and running down the hallways of the hotel (sorry other guests...)  They actually attended 90% of the wedding and made it through with the help of a large quantity of puffs :)  That's healthy...  And then we went to the reception and, as expected, they were done.  It was 7:30 our time, past their bedtime, and they were done cooperating.  So, we put them down in a room right off the ballroom, where they actually slept fairly well while Andrew mostly sat outside the room to make sure no one stole them.  And during that time, I was able to create this memory...possibly my favorite of the trip.  Grandma getting down!  

I have no idea what dance move we are all doing here, but Erin apparently thought it was hilarious.  I am bummed I didn't get a dance in with my boys, but know that was absolutely what they needed.  Who knows when they'll be going to a wedding again, but I'll sure be getting a dance at that one!

All these family trips are great, and I am so thankful my boys did well with all the transitions and being out of their little bubble.  But each family outing, each trip we take, there is a little ache.  A sense that our whole family isn't there.  I wonder how long I will feel that.  How long I will be jealous of families with their little girls.  How long will it be before I can make it through a father/daughter dance without having to find an excuse to step out so I can sob on Andrew's shoulder.  This was my second wedding since Reagan passed, and I still feel my heart shattering at the realization that Reagan will never experience that.  I'll never see her dressed up in a wedding gown (maybe even wearing my own), hair all done and makeup on, so eager and excited to be married.  Though I am daily grateful she didn't have to experience the pain in this world, I am saddened by the thought she never got to experience the joys of this world either.  I know our present joys are NOTHING compared with eternity with our Savior, I know she is not longing for those moments.  But my merely mortal mind cannot comprehend what is going to be, all I have is what is around me at the moment.  And in that moment, it was heartbreak all over again.  I know if I had lost a son I would still have these moments, they would just be different triggers.  Anyway, apparently it takes more than 2 years.  Maybe it takes a lifetime.

Father's Day

Happy Father's Day to my wonderful husband!  What a year we've had together!  Was it really only a year ago we were sitting in the hospital (or he was sitting, I was lying...) trying to control these contractions with every single medication known.  Praying for our unborn children, that they would survive this whole ordeal.  Last year, we spent Father's Day in room 875, left for a very brief wheelchair ride into the courtyard right outside my window, watched some golf.  I didn't want Andrew's first Father's day to be lacking the obligate footprint art, so I had a dear friend bring me Reagan's footprints which we turned into a flower.  But, under it all, there was still sorrow and terror.  Our little girl wasn't here to sit in his lap and giggle as he tickled her, to give him a hug.  Our boys were beating the odds, but still fighting for their lives.  I often wonder how much the fathers who have been through infertility and heartache feel on Father's Day.  Does it sting like it did for me?  Is there this sense of emptiness, of longing, of pain?  It doesn't appear to be, but then, men don't talk about emotion like we do.  I think, under it all, the emotions are there.  Just maybe not bursting forth in fits of outrage and despair (not that I would ever do that...)

This year, there was more joy.  There is still an underlying pain, but we were able to celebrate with our children for the first time.  We celebrated yesterday and had a wonderful morning, complete with breakfast in bed and homemade gifts.  I'm not sure who enjoyed them more, Andrew who received them, or me as I got to make them.  Thank goodness for pinterest!  And each year it will only get more fun as Warren and Dean are able to participate more and more.

My husband is an amazing man.  I don't tell him nearly often enough, but he is a rock for our family.  He works hard so I can stay home with our boys, comes home to a frumpy wife covered in drool/spit up/baby food who hasn't showered all day (or maybe even yesterday), and still loves me.  He takes my frantic phone calls during the day as he's between meetings to calm me down when the boys won't eat, sleep, or stop screaming.  He continues to attend and serve at church, though we know few people still there and though his family isn't with him.  And each day, when he comes home, he makes my boys the happiest little boys in the whole world, as their faces light up with huge smiles and they head straight for him.  I couldn't ask for anything better.  No, our journey hasn't been easy.  And staying home isn't what I thought it would be (though nothing ever is).  But we are blessed beyond words as a family that Andrew is my husband and a father to Reagan, Warren, and Dean.

Happy Father's Day!  We love you so much!

Return to Zero

As a college student, I watched a handful of Lifetime movies.  Guilty pleasure.  I'm embarrassed to admit that as so many of them were SO bad...bad acting, ridiculous story-line, and always a cheating/scumbag man.  Ahh, back when life was carefree and I had time to waste :)  That being said, I was unsure how the Lifetime movie Return to Zero would be.  It actually had some well known actors, but you just never know.  Regardless, I made Andrew sit down with me last weekend and watch it in its entirety.  And we sobbed our way through it.

Return to Zero portrays stillbirth.  A topic I've never really seen in TV or on movies, because it just isn't discussed.  As I watched Minnie Driver deliver a baby that would never utter a sound, it brought everything flooding back.  So many details were spot on - from the panic with the dopplar, denial with the ultrasound, the grey leaf they hang on your door at the hospital, the emptiness that follows.  Even the ridiculous comments that were said to make you feel better, but in actuality make you want to scream.  It touched on so many of the taboo things one never wants to know until going into it.  My heart just broke all over again.  I was so very thankful Andrew was there for me to cling to as we watched on.

I learned 2 things from this movie.  First, I have pushed so many of my emotions from Reagan aside because of the boys - I had to "be strong for them" as I was told by so many while they were fighting for their lives, inside and outside the womb.  I spend the whole time I wasn't pregnant grieving so completely and trying to find a way to just take a step forward.  When I started having pregnancy complications, the added "stress" of the grief only made things worse.  I had no chose but to put it aside.  But that, combined with a complicated, high risk pregnancy, has made it so difficult to truly bond with my boys.  I'm not sure how much of that was the pregnancy, the fact I couldn't see them for hours after they were born, couldn't hold them for days, and just stared at their tiny bodies through the isolet.  I kept telling myself I wasn't having breakdowns and crying while in the NICU because I was prepared for their NICU journey, but I think some of it was that I just couldn't handle anymore pain or crying, so I pushed my fear for the boys down deep too.  And yet, God chose to bless us with them anyway and bring them safely home.

Second, I learned what a profound difference hope in the Lord makes.  And that is where our story begins to differ.  The husband immediately resorted to drinking and had an affair (wouldn't be a true Lifetime movie without it)  Minnie Driver (already forgot her character name) was a shell of the woman she once was after her loss.  Now, granted, I was too for a bit.  But I live each day knowing with confidence that this is not the end of my story.  I know I will see our sweet Reagan again, hold her in my arms, dance with her on streets of gold.  There is incredible pain in knowing that I will not do those things here with her, but an eternal perspective helps so very much.  If that was the end of things, I had a daughter and she died and was gone, how could I go on?  How could anyone?

For anyone who wants to understand a little better the emotional side, how it feels to be handed a child who is not breathing, to take your first family picture and not know what kind of expression should be on your face, to be confronted immediately by others healthy pregnancies and healthy babies, and to not really be able to talk about it - I recommend the movie.  It was definitely written by someone who had been through stillbirth.  I'm not sure when, or even if, it will air again.  But I can post something about it if I see that.  I think it's out on DVD too, though I can't imagine Red Box would carry that...

Mother's Day

As Mother's Day is approaching, I am facing so many mixed emotions.  I wanted to try to sort through them all now before the actual weekend so I can try to enjoy some special time with my boys.  But I know there will still be this ache, this emptiness, in my heart where Reagan should be.  I wonder if I will ever encounter a holiday without that.

Mother's Day has been particularly painful for me over these past 4 years, and I expect the same to be true this year.  I don't think living children will take away the years of hurt and frustration over not being able to conceive, over waiting out our time with babies in the freezer, of loss and hardships.  The last 3 years I've completely avoided church on this day as it was just entirely too much for me to handle.  I think I went 4 years ago but had a breakdown once I got home, and I knew well enough to not go back.  The sermon is always about mothers and appreciating our moms.  There are flowers handed out to all the mothers, or special thing where all the moms get to stand up, some form of recognition.  But what about those who so desperately want to be a mother and can't get pregnant?  Or what about those who have children in heaven but not on Earth?  That's been me, for 4 long years.  And now, as I approach the 5th Mother's Day, I finally have children with me.  Someone said I'll be celebrating my "first official Mother's Day."  Ouch.  So much pain.  But we are baptizing Warren and Dean on Sunday, so I will enter church with a smile on my face.  I so wish that the baptism date was a separate event, but that is not the case.  So I am trying to sort through how I feel and try to be my emotional wreck before Sunday so that this year it can be all about God, Warren, and Dean as they are baptized.

Holidays seem to be particularly lonely.  Days when I should be so happy and celebrating something, that's when I miss Reagan the most.  Our family isn't complete here and never will be.  As we all gather for brunch on Sunday, she won't be there in an adorable, frilly purple dress, laughing and showing off.  It just makes my heart ache, physically ache, when I take the time to stop and think about it.  And on a day when her hand print art should be hanging right there next to the boys, I feel it even more.  I wonder if she knows this, if she thinks of me on Mother's day.  Maybe she is creating a stockpile of handmade art for me when I get to join her.  Wouldn't that be beautiful??

But this year, I do have something to celebrate.  I have my miracle twins.  Exactly one year ago, at 19 weeks, I began having contractions and was admitted for the first time to Labor & Delivery.  A few days later, I was admitted again and stayed until they were born.  And now, they are home with me.  Completely healthy, no longer on monitors, no treatments needed.  I am also able to reflect on how gracious God is and how He carried them through such a battle, from the very beginning.  No doctor thought they would make it.  I remember celebrating with the nurses when we reached 23 weeks - viability.  And again when we reached 24 - hope.  We didn't make it to that 28 week mark for next celebration, but God is bigger than all that.  And, at 26 weeks 6 days, they were born.  I looked back at their medical records and Warren's APGAR scores were 7 and 9.  For anyone who knows medicine or preemies, you know that is just amazing.  He came out screaming, with one arm overhead, crying "I did it!!" And from that point on, they have fought with persistence which can only come from above.  They learned to breath, to keep their heart rates up, to keep their temperatures regulated, all these little things most moms take for granted.  And on Mother's Day, I am extra grateful for them and how far they have come.

As I have been raising them and seeing firsthand the struggles of raising a child, I am also all the more thankful for my own mother.  I never realized the sacrifices you make for your children.  I always took for granted that my mom stayed home with us, cleaned up after us, cooked for us.  I never realized how exhausting that can be.  From 6AM until 9PM, I rarely stop.  It's feed them, play with them, try to get them to sleep, repeat.  And then, if they do sleep, the floors need to be vacuumed, baby food needs to be made, dinner prepped, laundry folded, etc.  It never ends.  And I have great support from Andrew, so can't imagine what it would be like without him and his willingness to help...whole new appreciation for single moms.

We're celebrating our Mother's Day on Saturday with a trip to the mountains, the last place I took Reagan before complications started.  I always think of that trip when I think of her, and I can't wait to show the boys.  I hope to put of pictures of that event soon!

Easter

Easter is one of those holidays I didn't think about too much until right before it arrived.  It was never heavily celebrated in our household.  Good Friday service, Easter Sunday service, lunch...and I just went on with my life.  I know that sounds terrible.  I knew the significance of Easter, knew the sacrifice Jesus made for me, knew that was the one and only reason I would go to heaven...but Monday was just another day.  Really, the Saturday in between was just another day as well.

Having children in heaven makes Easter that much more real to me.  I understand better the sacrifice God made by sending His Son to die, knowing the pain He would endure, and allowing it to happen to save a bunch of sinners who deserve nothing.  I would never intentionally allow my children to hurt.  Sleep training last night, listening to Warren's screams, I sat at the kitchen table and just cried.  And I knew he wasn't even in physical pain.  So, the sacrifice for God to send Jesus to rescue me takes on a whole new meaning.  In the past 2 years I have said goodbye to two children and watched two more fight for their lives.  Both processes are incredibly painful.  And yet, God chose to do it.  For me.  Wow.

Easter signifies Christ's triumph over death.  "Death has been swallowed up in victory."  Because of that, because of Christ's selfless sacrifice, I can rest assured that I will be reunited with Reagan.  My sweet daughter is laughing and playing and enjoying her Creator because of Easter.  Praise the Lord!  And, again I reflect on what a celebration Easter must be in Heaven.  Oh, how I can't wait to know!

I still love looking at Reagan's painting, seeing how my mom created her to be so beautiful and happy, capturing everything I ever imagined for her in a single moment.  Just beautiful.  One of my fellow Hope Mommies shared this with me, and I love it even more as I think about Easter.  "They say that time in heaven is compared to a blink of an eye for us on this earth, sometimes, it helps me to think of my daughter running on ahead of me through a beautiful field of wildflowers and butterflies. I imagine her so utterly happy and completely caught up in what she is doing, that by the time she turns around to see if I'm behind her...I will be"

Robbed

Today, I am longing for what I have missed.  I'm not sure why these recent days have been more difficult...possibly sleep deprivation?  Possibly spending more time with some amazing Hope Mommies and sharing Reagan's story?  Possibly seeing all the hugely pregnant women on FB and realizing how much my boys missed out on?

Coming home outfits.  I have several friends pregnant and due any second now all posting about coming home outfits.  Ouch.  Reagan had no outfit...her tiny little body was too small for even the little tutu I brought with me to the hospital.  Her head didn't fill out the handmade hat.  With my boys, we didn't know exactly when they would come home.  Dean came home in something semi-cute, but we were so heartbroken at leaving Warren behind it was one of those bittersweet moments.  Warren coming home was a complete and utter surprise.  I don't even know what he wore home...whatever the nurse decided to put him in that morning I suppose.  Don't get me wrong, I was delighted to have him come home a day early.  But it was a frantic rush to gather 3 months worth of stuff from our NICU area, put it in bags, and get picked up.  No cute little matching smocked outfits as I had once dreamed.  And, they came home to a room full of random junk as they had no nursery yet.  Never what I dreamed for us and the first children we would get to bring home.  Never dreamed that I would even have to clarify that - first children vs. first ones home.  Makes me long for heaven and our future so much!

On a positive note, we are headed to Clemson this weekend!  That's right, no more isolation.  The boys will attend their very first Clemson game since we weren't allowed in crowds this fall.  The spring game.  Should be so much fun!  I am excited to get to take them to downtown Clemson and walk the streets where Andrew and I fell in love.  It will also be their very first shopping trip!  They've never set foot in single store, restaurant, etc before.  I hope to have some great pictures along with reports that they did well with the change in schedule (gulp) for next week!

Reagan's Due date year 2

Today is another painful day in our journey of loss.  Sweet Reagan's due date.  I don't know exactly how to feel today...we knew she would not have actually been born today.  We always thought she would come early, probably sometime in February, but there is still this sorrow associated with today.  I spoke with another mom who had a loss about it, about how it was still so difficult even though it was a day that would have meant nothing had she lived.  But, for the entire pregnancy, this is the day you count down to, look forward to, dream about.

Last year, her due date was absolutely awful.  We had a wonderful trip to the beach planned to have some time to rest and celebrate her life.  And I ended up in the hospital a few weeks before and told not to travel.  And, just the day before her due date, we were told by the specialist that we should expect to miscarry at any second.  That the twins would not make it.  That at 11 weeks, the boys would not live to see 12.  I remember spending the weekend in utter despair and crying out to God that we wouldn't have to endure the pain anymore.  The physical pain I was in from the pregnancy complications plus the emotional pain of what we lost put me over the edge.  Andrew finally convinced me to take a full dose of my pain medication and I vaguely remember him holding me tight as I sobbed and eventually drifted off into sleep.

Today, one year later, life looks so different.  God performed a miracle and saved little Warren and Dean.  I have been immensely blessed to watch them grow and develop despite their trials in the womb and very premature birth.  Part of me will always wonder and question why God didn't chose to perform that same miracle with Reagan.  And part of me will always feel a sudden pain and anguish when I see other little girls.  I pray that will one day go away, that I will be completely filled with God's grace and peace that I no longer feel that way.  But today, it is just bubbling up fresh.

There is so much joy that I associate with Reagan's life.  God used her, her short life, and my love for her, to teach me so much about Him and others.  Nothing will ever be the same.  I often find myself only blogging when I have these moments of immense pain and loss, but I am really so grateful for every moment I spent with her.  I'm grateful for the video we have of her dancing away in my tummy, smiling at the camera, sucking on her thumb.  I love that she was the first little one I ever felt kick, that Andrew got to feel that.  I love the little pieces of her that have found their way into every room in our house - pictures, butterflies, board, mementos.

One verse is hanging on our bathroom mirror, has been since about a month after her birth.  Romans 15:13 "May the God of HOPE fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit"  We serve a God of hope, even on days like today.  Even as I sat sobbing in the chair clinging onto my boys (who are old enough and aware enough now to just both stare at me with big eyes of concern, looking from my face to each other and back again).  God is bigger than all my pain.  And, on days like today, I must be in constant pray that I will remember what Reagan is doing.  That she's dancing away in heaven, playing with her brother, singing with a perfect little voice.  As I look at her footprints, I imagine those tiny little feet running through the flowers, see her blonde curls bouncing, and her face lit up in laughter.  She's not here with me, crying because she's hungry/tired or needing/longing for anything.  She is perfectly satisfied in a place without sin.

We love you always, Reagan.

Molly Bears

So, I received notice in early December that our "Reagan bear" from mollybears.com was going to be completed in January and shipped to us.  We registered with Molly Bears back in November 2012...so we've waited 15 months for this day to come.  The package arrived yesterday afternoon.  Part of me was so super excited, part of me experienced overwhelming grief yet again.  I waited all day for Andrew to come home before deciding that I couldn't wait any longer and opened it right before I went to bed.  Maybe should have waited until I had moral support right there...

For those of you who have never heard of Molly Bears, it is an organization that creates a stuffed bear based on your child's weight and specifications.  So, our Reagan bear weighs 7 ounces and is sporting an awesome purple tutu.  I absolutely love it.  Yet, at the same time, it broke my heart to hold it in my arms.  To know it was the exact weight of our sweet daughter.  To imagine her dressed in a purple tutu, dancing away.  I close my eyes and I can see her just perfectly...as she was, so peaceful and at ease with the world, and as I imagine her today, happy and vibrant and dancing in that field of flowers.  I am sitting here, looking at the picture of her dancing hanging on the wall, blonde curls bouncing and a huge smile on her face.  I am simultaneously falling in love all over again and crying out in despair.  It has been 15 months since I laid eyes on that beautiful girl, our firstborn.  Over a year since our tearful goodbye.  And the pain is still there, still fresh.  Does it ever get better??  I find myself telling the boys "once upon a time" stories about princess Reagan after reading their manly books about construction trucks.  Every time I open the closet, I see her clothes hanging there.  And a little piece of me crumbles.  I just wish I could see her again, see her smile again, watch her wave to us, suck her thumb, dance away.  As time moves on, I no longer have the anger I once had.  A part of me always struggles with seeing little girls, not because I am hating these women but because it reminds me of what I am missing.  Don't get me wrong, I love my boys.  And I'll play cars and trucks with them all day long and be perfectly happy with that.  But for so many months I dreamed on princesses and tea parties and I still miss that.

We have started getting things in the mail for "babies first birthday."  And Reagan's due date is right around the corner (though I never really had any expectations of carrying a baby full term).  I think that will make her due date a little easier, knowing she would have likely been born well before that.  But once I realized these catalogs were not coming for the boys, they weren't implying that a super organized mother would already be planning her sons' birthday, I threw them all out.  Another painful reminder of an empty day coming ahead.

But then, I wake up in the morning and I get to see two smiling faces.  This morning especially, as Warren's little face lit up when I reached down to pick him up from his crib.  My heart just melted.  My boys in no way take Reagan's place or fill the empty hole her death left us with, but they bring me so much joy.  Sometimes they make me crazy and I wonder how I will survive the next hour, much less the next year or more.  But then they smile, I do something that makes them laugh, Dean gives me a kiss, or Warren gives me a hug (while simultaneously spitting up down my back...thanks for that) and it makes the world right again.  No child will ever take Reagan's special place in our hearts and lives, but each boy and all our future children will have their very own "special place," carved out just for them.  It's amazing how the capacity to love just keeps growing.

2013

Wow, what a year!  I am sitting here reflection on all this year has brought for us as the boys drift off to sleep.  One year ago today, we arrived back home after holiday travels with empty arms and aching hearts.  2012 brought so much pain and heartache as we said goodbye to our precious Reagan.  And yet, I was so grateful for those few precious hours we had together that I could never say it was the worst year.  It was the hardest year for sure, but we welcomed our daughter, our firstborn, into the world.  And no matter how much pain is associated with that, there is still considerable joy.  But on New Years day of 2013, I was still overcome with grief.  And as I looked ahead to the year to come, I had no idea what to expect.  We had already decided when to do our next IVF transfer, had prayed for that and for the unknown results.  There was so much uncertainty - would the transfer take, would I miscarry, would I have another stillborn??  I was terrified.

And things definitely did not go according to plan.  I was counting up in my head the number of times the doctors told me the boys would not make it.  Four.  Four separate times, four separate doctors.  All told me to say goodbye, to prepare myself.  And yet, God is bigger than all that.  Though I sometimes question why my miracle babies had to be "miracles," why things couldn't have gone normally from the very beginning, I am incredibly grateful for where we are now.  Warren and Dean are now 6 months old and growing like crazy, finally passing into double digits for their weights, laughing and playing, and developing their own little personalities.  Two years ago at NYE we threw a party.  Last year we were mourning.  And this year, I didn't even get out of my PJs.  We didn't leave the house.  And we fell asleep by 10:30.  And yet, there was no where else I would rather be than right here at home with all 3 of my boys.

2014 will continue to bring more changes as we work on settling into more of a routine with the boys, as they start crawling, walking and talking.  I am so excited for each of their "firsts" and all the memories associated with that.  So much fun ahead!