The Clock Keeps Ticking

Yesterday I took the girls to the splash park. It was good for them to get out (and away from the television for awhile) and good for me to get them out (and away from my guilt of them being in front of the television).

The day wasn't as hot and humid as I was expecting, certainly not a day for me to get wet, but Hope jumped right in. Paige, on the other hand, only sprinkled her toes and spent most of the time sitting with me, laying on the towel, and snacking. My three-year-old teenager.

We had fun though, until we packed it in because of the rain, and even though I was tired it felt good to get out of the house, to do a little distracting. Although I do not regret my decision, this waiting and wondering is hard. In many ways I want to stay pregnant forever, because the longer I'm pregnant the longer my son is still here with me. But the unknown of when we will lose him, how much longer we have him for, is so difficult. It's like I'm watching the second hand of clock, tick-tick-tick, just holding my breath afraid that this next 'tick' will be the time the clock stops. It's a lot of breath holding.

So sometimes smiling, sometimes getting away from my instinct to curl up in bed and stay there all day, sometimes reminding myself that I can still manage to parent even when I don't want to, sometimes not letting my mind go there, can be good. Even if it only lasts two hours.

xoxo christine

Whatever

Life is funny. (Not funny ha-ha, but funny not-actually-humorous-but-more-of-a-strange-and-even-sucky-sometimes-thing.) Not too long ago I was feeling pretty down about myself and who I was, or rather, wasn't. How hard it sometimes felt to see people accomplishing things that I wanted to accomplish, or even just accomplishing anything, because, well, who was I? (Really, what had I even accomplished?)

And now? None of it really matters. Isn't it amazing how everything in life matters, yet nothing matters? Right now the Not Mattering is not in a good I-have-my-priorities-right kind of way, but more in a whatever-who-cares-nothing-matters kind of way.

I know that this will all make me a better person, but it's not really doing that for me yet. The girls are watching too much TV, and their diets are really not balanced, and there are times I feel minuscule amounts of guilt (perhaps that's a step in the right direction?), but mostly I Just.Don't.Care. It's hard for me to feel much more than "whatever" about anything right now.

On the way to our twenty-week ultrasound last week, when we were blissfully unaware of what was to come, I was feeling frustrated and annoyed because my husband kept talking about house projects and keeping/getting our house ready to sell, even though we aren't anywhere near (five years?) to selling. Oh how nice it would be to go back to that.

I am selfish right now, and really, for the most part, I'm okay with that. I just don't have the energy to care much. It may sound horrible, but it just kind of is the way it is right now. In time I'm sure I'll be bursting with other emotions, but this moment in time, this moment in my life, it's just a lot of blahs and whatevers.

xoxo christine

To read the first part of this story go here. If you don't want to miss an update you can like And it is Love on Facebook. But no pressure. :)

Decisions, Decisions, and Fear

We decided to just wait and let things happen on their own. I can understand and fully respect making a different choice, you have to do what is right for you and your family, and this is what feels right for us.

He is a boy. In a healthy pregnancy we would not have found out the sex (we didn't with either of the girls), but we both decided that this pretty much changes everything. So when we got the results of our amniocentesis back it was one of my first questions.

My hollowness is sometimes filled up with fear. I desperately want to be able to hold this baby (whenever he comes) and I am terrified that I won't get to. So if you're the praying/wishing/hoping type, that would be much appreciated. I think it's one of the only things I'm holding onto right now, being able to touch him, even if he is already gone.

Thank you to those who have reached out to us with calls, messages, texts, thoughts, and/or prayers. It means the world to us to have so many people supporting us right now.

xoxo christine

You can read the start of this story, here.

(If you don't already you can like And it is Love on Facebook if you're are interested in periodic news and updates.)

Untitled

I don't even know what to write.  No words I use will do justice to what I am feeling and what is going on.

Our baby, this beautiful baby I was desperate for, is going to die.

How do I put into words what it feels like to get this news? The fear and shock and sadness to find out that something is wrong. The drive and desire to go to whatever lengths to find out the cause. The numbness that settles in, hollowing out any emotions, leaving a vacant shell.

Anything I say, and words I write, can not adequately portray what this feels like. How frustrating it is not to be able to explain the pain in my heart, the ache in my soul.

I am not ready to let go. I am not ready to say goodbye. Selfishly, I want to hold onto this baby for as long as I can. But he will die. Of this, they are sure. No one can survive with three sets of chromosomes.

But somehow I am supposed to survive with a broken heart.

Tough Conversations

We sat at the table, just the two of us, and she turned to me. Mommy? I don't want people in the world to be dead, she whispered. In less than a second I wanted to scoop her up, cover her with kisses, and tell her that people don't die and that there's no reason to be afraid or sad or anything that might weigh on her shoulders.

But, as unprepared as I felt, my heart steadied as I told her that it's okay, and every one dies, and even though no one knows for sure, Mommy and Daddy believe in God and because of Him will we all be together again in heaven.

And when she looked away from me and mumbled, I'm not sure if I believe that, I wanted to shout, "It's okay! I'm not sure either! But somehow it's okay. I promise." Because even though I believe, I sometimes, too, have my doubts and fear that after death there is nothing, and then in the next moment I fear the wrath of God, immediately begging His forgiveness so I'm not damned to all eternity.

We talked quietly and she climbed up on my lap, telling me that our conversation was making her feel sad, but even when I asked her if she wanted to talk about something else, she said no. I tried to reassure her that she and I both have a long time before we die (even though I know there's always a possibility we don't, I didn't think at five-years-old she was ready for all of that), and how important it is to enjoy now and be happy together.

Long after our conversation was over it sits heavily with me, knowing that there will be many more conversations that catch me off guard, that I don't feel knowledgeable enough to speak about, that I don't want to mess up and leave her struggling and more confused than when we began.

I only hope, that as we both continue to grow, I can give her and her sister the tools they need to navigate this world.

xoxo,
Christine