It's a Favorite this Summer

Just sharing a few photos of our summer outings. Can you tell what the girls request every day?

xoxo christine

The Waiting and the Wondering

Here's the thing. This whole thing, it just kind of... is. Yes, it's sucky and horrible and devastating and sad and unfair and all those other things, but it also is just the way that it is. There is nothing we can do, nothing anyone can do (or say) that changes anything. Right now, my overwhelming feeling is just... it is what it is. This what life is right now, this is what this pregnancy is right now, this is what Is.

The good thing about it all (sometimes you can find a good thing even in all the crap), is that we have time. And we may not know how much time that is (which is most definitely NOT a good thing for the planner inside me), but there has been time. Time to feel our baby move, to see the girls kiss my belly and tell him secrets, to get ultrasound pictures of him, to give him silly names (Hope calls him Chubby and Paige goes back and forth between Chubby and Hairy Daddy's Stomach), to make up stories about what he's "saying" when we go over a bump or when Hope blows raspberries on my belly.

We've had time to make memories, and that feels like a good thing.

And, even though with each bleeding episode the doctor hasn't been able to find a reason or signs of impending labor, it's starting to feel like the beginning of the end to me. (Of course, I hope I'm completely wrong and it's just my paranoia...) But I am terrified. I'm afraid of the unknown. Am I going into labor today? Will it be tomorrow? Do we have days, or weeks, or even months? What will labor look like? Will my doctor end up delivering him? What kind of nurses will I have? Will he be born breathing? Or will he already be gone? What will he look like? Will we have time with him?

The questions are never-ending, and the unknown answers eat away at me. I love this baby so much and I want to keep him for as long as possible, yet the waiting and the not-knowing are so incredibly hard. It's a roller coaster that is constantly going down, with a few tiny bumps up along the way. We're just on the ride, not knowing quite when we'll hit the bottom, until we can hopefully start to make our way up again.

xoxo christine

Not Much New

I don't have much to say, except that I feel like I should be "checking in" here at least once a week in an effort to assure people I'm not spending my days curled in the fetal position, rocking in the corner. Which, now you can now confirm, is not what is going on.

Here is some of what's going on:

Hope started swim lessons last week. Her attitude is a drastic change from last year. She seems comfortable in the water and with the instructors. I even see her smiling. Of course, when I ask what she likes best about the lesson she just shrugs her shoulders and mumbles Nothing. Sometimes I'll prod and talk about things I saw her doing and other times just let it go. She seems to love being in the water even if she doesn't want to talk about it.

An impromptu visit to the doctor midweek revealed nothing serious, just that our sweet baby boy is growing and his heart is beating strong. Even though I'm only twenty-four weeks we're up to once a week visits to the doctor because of an increased risk of developing pre-eclampsia and the specialist's concerns. So, luckily nothing was wrong, but it certainly gave Adam and I a large dose of anxious fear on our way to the appointment.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to rot my brain with a bit of smutty television.

xoxo christine

Life's a Crapshoot

The truth is, today is a sucky day. Yes, I am feeling relatively better after spending time with a friend, because that's what I need, those friends who hug and comfort you one minute, but just as quickly smile and distract you the next. It's easy for me to wallow and forget and curse the universe and feel so isolated and alone, and to forget that there are people out there who can lift me up, who just being around make me feel relief. So, yes, I am feeling better now than I was two hours ago.

But today the universe still feels pretty shitty.

Sure, some of that has to do with my situation, but to be honest, my heart is feeling extra heavy right now for another friend who is going through something hard herself. I ache and I cry, and I curse at the world because it feels like because of my shitty hand, none of my friends should be dealt a shitty hand. My loss should be enough so that no one else should be getting bad news.

I know that's not how it works. That's not how life works. Just because I've gotten a crap of a deal with this pregnancy doesn't mean that other people I love won't have crap thrown at them. But it's so unfair. It's too much. Why can't I shoulder the pain for everyone, since I'm already going through this? Why do people I love and care about have to be feeling pain too?

I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say. I want to gather up all my loves and squeeze them and hold them and put them into a happy bubble where nothing sad can weigh on their shoulders. It's a horrible cliché, I know. And I realize without sadness there couldn't be happiness, and this is all a part of life, and blah, blah, blah. But right now all I want to do is scream and yell and stomp my feet and throw a super-sized temper tantrum at the unfairness of it all.

xoxo christine

We Interrupt this Heaviness

...to bring you a bit of silliness.


The girls and I were in the car together a few days ago, driving to a friend's house. They decided to play I Spy in order to help the time pass. At one point, unknown to both Hope and me, the game turned from I Spy into Guess What I'm Thinking Of.

Paige: I spy with my little eye, something that is hairy.

Hope: Is it my hair?

Paige: Nope.

Me: Is it my hair?

Paige: Nope... It's DADDY'S HAIRY LEGS!

[insert three girls bursting into giggles]

xoxo christine

Just Hanging On

We are all still hanging in here, lest you fear my silence means something else. Just doing our best to take one day at a time, especially me.

The girls are doing what I can only assume is okay. We told them about the baby almost right away, the day we got the preliminary results, and they are coping in what feels like normal to me for a five-year-old and three-year-old.

There has been a lot of mentioning how "the baby will die" and "the baby will be dead" by Paige, and Hope pretty much avoids the topic, occasionally telling Paige to stop because talking about the baby dying makes her sad.  Hope spent about a week hesitant to touch, kiss, or mention my belly, but has recently starting giving my belly raspberries. We all giggle at the thought of the baby laughing inside at the vibrations. Paige told me the other day that she is going to give the baby one of her pacifiers.

These moments, they simultaneously bring me joy and sorrow. I love that we are talking about and enjoying our baby boy right now. But my heart aches for all the things we no longer talk about and plan. No more looking forward to next summer when the baby will be big enough to ride in the swing on our new swing set. No more preparing Paige that her crib will become her baby brother's. No more discussions on realistic expectations for what newborn babies can (and can't) do.

Today was the first time that seeing Hope around a baby made me feel anything but happy. A piece of my heart broke off as I thought about just how much she loves to be around babies, how much she wants to make them smile, how much she wants to be the helper.

She was supposed to become a big sister doubly over this fall, and now she won't. Friends of ours will go on to have new babies in their families and we will visit and love those new babies, but every time we have to say goodbye I wonder if Hope will be remembering that we were supposed to have a baby too, but he didn't get to come home.

I worry about them, my two sweet daughters, and how this loss will affect them. I know they are tough. I know they are resilient. I know they will be fine. But I still worry.

We all just keep on hanging in here, taking one day at a time, and doing our best. It's all there really is to do.

xoxo christine