MIA

My last day of work was February 11th. The following days that week were filled with a lot of snuggles with my daughter. It was the last few days that she was going to be the only child in this house, the last few days of mommy and daddy's undivided attention.  Friday morning came around and I had to call the hospital at 6:30am to find out what time to be there for the induction. They told me all the beds were full, and it would be later that day. I called back around 9:30am and they were telling me it may not happen. Anthony and I were a little upset. My dr called just a bit later and asked us what we were feeling. I love her. She's amazing. I told her it's ok, I know it was elective, and I understand that if there were no beds, we could wait. She said she had to go into the office, but she would do all she could to find out when we could get into the hospital. About a half hour later, at 11am, the nurse from the hospital called and said come in as soon as we could. We jumped up and explained to Claire we were going to the hospital to get Dominic out of mommy's belly and bring him home. She was a little upset at first, and that in turn, made me upset. We got to the hospital and got settled in. I had to get 4 hours of antibiotics before I could deliver. They didn't want to start the induction until they were sure I wouldn't deliver before that 4 hr mark. They let me eat around 2pm and around 2:30 we started the induction. My contractions got intense after a few hours and they came to do the epidural. I was already in the transition stage and shaking uncontrollably. I was getting sick. Finally, I had some relief and laid down to rest. The epidural only took to one side. I knew right then that was going to be bad, the side it took was not the side I had pain in all pregnancy. I didn't feel the contractions though, so I was ok with it. All of a sudden, around 11:00pm I felt my contractions coming on pretty hard. They had anesthesia come in and give me narcotics and wait to see how close I was to deliver. The dr said I was only 6cm. They gave me 2 more bolus' of the epidural. I felt like I needed to push. The dr's came in and told me it would be hours. I was only 6cm. I knew that wasn't true. I was practically begging the dr's not to leave because I knew I was going to push any minute. It was less than 5 min later and my contractions were so intense. The epidural wore off and no amount they would push through my IV was helping. I could feel everything. I was promising the dr's I needed to push and they checked and I was at 8cm. They said it would still be awhile. I didn't let them leave the room. Not even a minute later I was looking at Anthony like I needed him to either hold the baby in or convince the dr's I needed to push. The dr's came and checked and were surprised I was at 10cm. It had been less than 5 min to move from 6 - 10cm. I started to push and 20 minutes later, my little miracle was born. The epidural had worn off so it was a pretty painful delivery, but so worth it. I sobbed. I couldn't stop. It was like I had no control. I would try to take a deep breath to calm down, and it just came out louder and longer. I sobbed because my son was here safe. I sobbed because he would never know his 2 older brothers and 1 older sister. I sobbed because my oldest daughter was a big sister, and she would now know what that feels like on this earth. I sobbed because he was beautiful. I sobbed. There's so much more to what happened next, and the next few days, but since I've been writing this for a week now, this is where I'll stop. I will let you get a glimpse of my little man, but I promise there will be more pictures to come. Like everything else, I've been a little busy snuggling my little and big babies and still haven't uploaded pics to my computer.

My little man. 

Mommy snuggling her babies.

Proud big sister.

The Comparison Trap

 

 

Week of February 4, 2013 ~ Mirror, Mirror ~ The Comparison Trap

Mothers often fall into the trap of comparing ourselves to one another. This is a trap many women fall into. We compare our families, mothering styles, fashion sense, careers or lack thereof, bodies, etc. Even mothers with babies in heaven compare the way we grieve our children. I know…sad…but we do it, if we’re honest enough to admit it. So, how can we find freedom from this? Sharing is a start…telling the truth…admitting the struggle. I think, then, we will see that we all love our children, regardless of how we choose to remember and honor their lives…whether publicly or quietly…with big parties or simple moments of remembrance. Be real on this week’s post, and let’s free ourselves from the trap of comparing!

 

 

I have thought long and hard about this, unsure of what I would post. I honestly can't really remember a time that I compared myself to anyone else in the grieving process. I am comfortable with the way I grieve, and I'm comfortable in knowing that everyone grieves different, some "more" than others. I have taken some ideas from other mom's who have lost children, and I have left some things behind. I know what I need to make my heart and mind function with this sort of loss, and I do it. I don't care how it's looked at, I don't care who agrees or disagrees, I don't care about murmuring behind my back (cause I know there has been). I do what my family and I need to do to function on this earth with 1/2 of our family in heaven. If that's comparing, then I'm ok with it, but if it's meaning is more like "I wish I did this more like this person, or that person." I don't. I do regret not having a memorial service, but again, not because other's have, but because it would have been one more way for me to celebrate my children's short lives, and share them with more people.

 

I don't want to "reach" just to create a post, so I guess that's all I have to say for now. If something comes to me, I will be sure to return and talk about it.