Will we try again?

This is our little Crea shelf at home.
 It has all the small gifts we received while we were in the hospital, the mold of her
tiny hand and foot and the small red sparkly jar is her urn.
 

This week was my first full week back at work. It was great to get back and get busy. The days at home were difficult as I didn't feel very useful. The doctors didn't really want to release me because it wasn't even 6 weeks from her delivery but I insisted citing, "I need it for my mental health". (o:

It was mostly good. A little hard at times and I had my moments where I sat in my truck and cried. But overall, it was good. When I left to be in the hospital, many of the folks I work with saw me big and pregnant when they saw me last.  There was one apartment I went to inspect and when the manager saw me, she welcomed me back warmly and asked, "How's your baby?" I tried to suppress my emotion and said, "She passed away, actually." She immediately started crying. I didn't know what to do or say. I said, "It's ok. She was strong and we are so grateful for the time we had with her." She composed herself and told me she had just lost her fiancé to a long fight with cancer. When I got in my truck after our conversation, I smiled and felt SO grateful. I had the opportunity to share some of our journey and encourage her on hers. Right before I left, she asked if she could give me a hug and I told her, "You are not alone in your grief."

Wow. I am so, so grateful that even through some of my hardest moments, God still sees me fit enough to use. Even in my brokenness, He brings people into my path so I may share His light. I can't explain it clearly, but I am truly touched and grateful that even at a moment that I thought would break me, I could still be strength to someone who needed that moment.  Our God...in His infinite mercy...I am humbled and proud.

Moment by moment we take it each day. There isn't a moment that goes by when I don't miss our sweet girl and miss the days that should have been. Today we went to Cabela's (one of our favorite stores) and Terry kept asking me if I was ok. I kept seeing all these things thinking, "I would have loved that for Crea".

It really isn't about getting through the days. It's more about getting through the moments. So, even if some are harder than others, we still get through! *smile*

Now, its time to answer the question that many think of and some have asked..."will we try again?"

Here is the long, unclear answer.

Our desire to have a family is greater than it has ever been. Now we know that we can carry a pregnancy. After 14 years of miscarriages, the hope and belief that we CAN is at its highest point for us. We would LOVE to be pregnant again.

However, the reality for us right now is that Crea was very, very sick. I haven't really shared everything to the extent that it was because I'm not ready yet, but when I say that it was a miracle we got to meet her...please know that I say that with absolutely zero exaggeration. She was amazing, strong and a true miracle. The hospital sent a bunch of her blood to a lab to look at a lot of different things, but part of that is the genetics. We are still waiting for the results and hope to get them soon. What we are hoping to find out is if any of her illness could have been avoided and what role did we play in it? Was it just a fluke chance that it "just happens" or were there different things we could have done before we got pregnant to provide what was needed for her? Oh! The questions are many, many! But ultimately, we want to know IF we try again, what is the chance we would have a sick baby? If the chances are high and there is nothing we can do to avoid it, we have decided we will not try to get pregnant again and will take the proper measures to insure it doesn't ever happen.

We have always considered adoption and surrogacy.  Once we get the answers of Crea's bloodwork, we will decide how we will move forward.

I keep having a dream/vision that we have a baby and find out we are pregnant. I don't know if that is just my made-up dream or if it is something that will happen one day.

The short of it is this, however. Terry's faith and hope are sustaining us today. My heart is still broken and my goal each day is to get through the holidays and start the year new. I KNOW I want to have a family, but right now, my hope gauge is running on fumes. I am grateful that each day it gets a little stronger, but I am just taking it a moment at a time. (This is just me being honest)

SO....long answer made longer...
We hope. We wait. We hope. We dream. We wait. We hope. We dream and we wait.

I pray this message finds you well. The weather is getting cooler and each day we celebrate this life! For the good and not so good, this life is truly beautiful!!!

PS
If you are reading these blogs and have any commentary, questions, comments, I'd love to hear from you! It gets lonely in blog world when you don't hear from anyone.  (o:

I complained because I had no shoes until I met a man who had no feet.

October 15 has come and gone. I take a deep breathe and exhale as I feel the clouds have passed and the sun begins to shine on my moments.

I went back to work yesterday for a little while and today was my first full day back. What a blessing having a good job with a great work family makes. I am truly grateful. I have enjoyed getting up and having somewhere to go and something to do. Part of my struggle has been that I felt that Crea left this earth and, as it should be, everyone continued in their every day. Everyone except me. Because I had a C-section, I wasn't allowed to return to work and the fact I had been in bed for 2 1/2 months also left me quite weary. I know it will take time to get back to "old" me, but it has been a struggle. I have felt so useless as I have been home while everyone continued to every day life. It feels good to be at work and feel useful again. It has also been good to feel a bit of confidence that I can be out in the "real world" and not feel I am "marked" as a grieving mother. Yes, moments have come when I  felt I was about to lose it and fall apart, but the busy-ness of work and having accountability to others  made it easier to rein the emotion back. Work is good for my soul.

On the drive home I was reflecting about Oct 15. On Facebook, I am part of many groups of women who have lost pregnancies and babies. Many of them were posting pictures of their candles and the different things they were doing to honor their angel babies. It was overwhelming to see how many are still with their arms empty or they also experienced not having babies here on Earth. As I read through some of the posts, my hearts broke for them and with them.

The night Crea was born and they told us of all the complications, I was laying in bed in between tears and the thought kept coming to my mind, "we are not the only ones." Partly, it was to remind myself that this was not just happening to me, but also because I realized that this journey is not a one family journey. There are so many others who have and will experience the trials of losing someone so dearly.

There was a nurse who took care of Crea and I that shared she had lost her husband, her soulmate about 3 years ago. When she shared this with me, I thought about Terry and I couldn't even imagine not having him in my life. As she shared her story, my heart broke for her loss as I tried to understand how she gets up every day and continues on.

In all of this, I realize that we are ALL living with a hurt, disappointment, loss and struggle. Very few of us are exempt from the trials of this life. It is amazing that we are not all falling apart! (She smiles) But, seriously, part of living this great life is knowing that if we haven't hit devastation yet, we may in the future. I'm not saying I hope it happens to anyone, but it makes me realize that we are all in this together....trying to find the great in this great life.

As I walk through my days, it makes me cautious of what I say. For instance, it used to really bother me (still does a bit) when women complain continuously about their pregnancy. All I could think was, "I WISH I had morning sickness, aching back and not sleeping because I had a baby growing inside me!" Now, having experienced the Nth degree of struggle in a pregnancy, I do understand where the complaining can come from. But every time I felt the struggle, I would think of the many sisters in this journey that were still waiting for their BFP. (That's a term we all know in the infertility world as Big Fat Positive) I thought of all those women who would share on our groups that they were on the 2WW (2 Week Wait) for a positive test that would reveal their dream was about to come true.

It doesn't mean that I won't ever complain about people, thing and situations, but it just makes me mindful how my struggle may be someone's dream point. Does that make sense?  I may run into times when Terry and I aren't getting along, but what if I am talking to someone like my nurse that would just LOVE to have her husband back and I'm sitting there complaining. (and probably about trivial things)

It reminds me of an old saying I heard once. "I complained because I had no shoes until I met a man who had no feet".

There are so many people dealing with life...some good, some not so good. None of us know what or to the extent of another's struggle. I am challenged more than ever to JUST BE KIND.

We are human. We are going to complain, get discouraged, feel disappointed...but we have a choice as to how we are going to behave.

I hope this encourages you as well to be cautious of words...we never know who might be listening.

I hope this message finds you blessed. I, for one, feel content and quite frankly, proud! My first day back at living was a good day.

Blessings all!

This is real... My broken Hallelujah

Behind that door is the baby's room. It is filled with a crib, diapers and all the makings of a dream that was to come home. For now, everything lays still and quiet behind that door.

This is the real deal. The raw, unedited side of dealing with the grief of your newborn baby taking her last breathes in your arms.

Today is Oct 15: Infant and Pregnancy loss awareness day.  I have been a part of this club for 14 years. It is a day that I have stopped to remember the 8 pregnancies that were miscarried. (As if I ever lived a day without thinking about them.) This year, 2013, I thought would be different. Having carried this pregnancy for 35 weeks, I thought I would be spending this day with my newborn daughter remembering her siblings...my arms would not be empty. But they are. Tonight, I will add another candle...a 9th candle for our sweet girl, Crea.

When I was in the hospital I was following and praying for a baby named Corbin. He was born very sick and was beating the odds of the disease that had consumed his small body. Every day I would follow his momma's posts and pray for them. I remember the day she said he had passed away from this Earth and gone home. My heart broke. From my hospital bed I cried for her and thought, "I can't even begin to imagine what she is feeling." Never, in my wildest dreams did I think that just a short month away, I would be experiencing her grief. It had never crossed my mind that our daughter would not come home with us. Terry and I had discussed how she may be in the hospital for a while and what that would look like, but we never imagined going home empty handed. That reality is painful.

Today, Corbin's mom posted something on Facebook where she is saying she wished she would not be a part of this day. How she never imagined being a mom with an angel. Everything she wrote resounded so heavy in my spirit. I try to go through my days with grace. I try to stay positive. But today, the day is bitter. I remember sitting in our hospital room after Crea was born and they had conducted surgery, the doctor had just drawn out diagram showing us everything that was wrong with our baby girl. He said the prognosis was bleak. I remember asking God, "Why are you going to break my heart?" FOURTEEN years I have waited. I have believed. Despite myself, I have stood in faith. FOURTEEN years it has taken me to get to experience the joy of being pregnant. Tho it was difficult, I absolutely LOVED being pregnant. I loved watching my belly grow and feel her moving. I happily handled the sleepless nights and the constant vomiting because I told myself it was the sign of a healthy growing baby. Through the 14 years, I grieved 8 pregnancies I desperately prayed would produce its fruit here on Earth. Eight times was I in total joy when I had a positive pregnancy test and in complete grief when I felt my babies leave my body...once more leaving me feeling that I possessed a tomb and not a womb. Now, here I was, having delivered a beautiful baby girl after 14 years dealing with the reality that yes, she was here, but we weren't going to get to keep her. It's like looking into the face of heaven and being told we can not stay. You can't imagine my heart break.

In that, I also remember thinking, "He can't let her die, there are way too many people that are believing for this miracle." Somehow, I thought that because the audience of believers was so great, it would be impossible for Him to take her. Surely, He wouldn't want to lose face. Ha! This IS God we are talking about after all! I know, I know, all silly thoughts. But these really are things that crossed my mind as we went through that long weekend.

So here it is. Today, I will light my candles but I regret my portion of grace given to me for this day is not enough. I am sad/mad. I can't believe I am still part of this club. I can't believe that my arms are still empty.

When I got home from the hospital, after making arrangements for Crea's service, I went into Crea's room. I felt brave enough and having dealt with the week's events of getting her service arrangements in order and waiting for the service on Saturday, I thought I was ready. I was fine for a moment and as I walked out, I touched her crib. That was it, I fell to my knees and wept. I shouted at God. I begged God. "How can you break my heart? Why do you still leave my arms empty? I WANTED TO KEEP HER!!!!" Even as I scribe these words, tears fall down my face. These three statements run through my head at least once a day. Not always are they so desperate or painful. Sometimes, they are simple, kind statements in hopes that He will answer. But today, they are bitter and cold. I am sad.

In January of this year before we knew we were pregnant, I was sitting in church. I got to thinking about Hannah in the Bible. If you don't know the story, the short of it was that she was not able to give her husband children. He took another wife and she bore him many children. Every year, they would all go to the temple to make their offerings and give thanks and every year Hannah would go to the temple empty handed. She asked God to help her have a child. Year after year, she made that journey with her arms empty. I thought of how she must have felt. I thought about how I felt. In that service, I closed my eyes and whispered, "Don't allow me to continue to return to the temple with my arms empty." Little did I know that a baby was well on her way.

Fast forward to the Sunday after Crea's service. We went to church and during worship, I lifted my arms and worshipped. WOW! What a beautiful, painful moment. It is hard to explain. I lifted my arms and thanked the One who allowed me to carry such a perfect baby and at the same time, my heart grieved. Still today, when I go to church and worship, I can't help but cry. Here it is. This is my Broken Hallelujah. I will cry out to my God in my time of need. Equally, I will worship Him in this pain, in this grief, in these moments when I feel I can't breathe because it hurts too much. Just as I worshipped Him when I felt my daughter move in my womb or the moments I sat and listened to her heart beat strong. He is still the same. The only thing that has changed is my situation. And guess what? He knows it. I know that He is strong enough and kind enough to handle my broken hallelujah. He knows that it is bitter for me right now. He knows that in my mind, I believe there is hope but my heart's break hurts too much to believe it right now. He knows that I love Him and that I believe He sees me but He also understands that I am scared. He can handle that I have moments when I am mad because I don't understand. He also knows of the moments that I don't want to understand, I just want Him to fix it.

...I just want Him to fix it...

This was my Facebook status the day after Crea died and we were being released from the hospital::

At this moment, I am laying in the bed that served as my nest for the last 9 weeks. My faithful husband is downstairs unloading the first round of items into the truck so we can head home. The room is quiet now. No monitors letting me hear my sweet daughter's heart. No blood pressure cuff going off or knocks on the door from nurses or staff.

Just me.

I feel a physical pain in my chest that validates, "this. is. real."
The funeral home will be picking her body up in an hour.
We will be making our way to our real nest...home. There i will relearn to live again. To see my beloved Kota bear, my herd. After 2 months, I will slowly get back into a life.

I pause. Look out at the familiar scene of the brick building next to us.
I look at my still swollen belly and I can no longer feel her Ninja kicks.
At this moment, I lift my arms high with every sorrow inside me and in my spirit I cry, "I MISS HER!"
And in that same breathe, my arms fall to this bed and my heavy head lays on my chest and I whisper, "but I am so grateful that You made good on your promise to allow me to see her and be mom"

This sorrow will come in waves.
Our grief is real.
But our sincere gratitude is equally as real.

These 9 weeks have been difficult. I love what one of the nurses said to me this morning. She commented that maybe I was put on bedrest so I could be still and have time to get to know Crea so I could share her with the world.
...maybe.

For now, the tears will start and stop today.


I am still grateful. I know that hope is still present. I know this pain will subside and the questions formed by grief will be answered in its time.

These are just the ramblings of a grieved mother who is truly, truly, grateful despite.

 To close this post, I want to share something from a book a friend of mine sent me. Although, at times hard to read because of the emotion, this book has been such a blessing to me.

The book is called, "My Time in Heaven" by Richard Sigmund

Reunion of Mother and Baby
My attention was drawn to a group of about thirty-five people. They were standing in front of the veil, waiting for someone special to appear. I could tell that everyone was in an excited and joyous spirit.

There were those gathered who evidently had died many earth year ago, but here, it was only yesterday. I saw people who must have been this special person's children, sister and husband, who had long since become residents of heaven.

"There she is," someone said. A person in the group was carrying a baby. The baby had the full power of speech and was totally aware of all its surroundings. This baby cried with a high little voice, "Mommy! Mommy! There is my mommy. Jesus said that I could remain a baby and that Mommy could raise me in heaven."

How great is the love of God.

At that moment, an old, wrinkled woman, all stoop-shouldered and very frail, came through the veil. Instantly upon entering the atmosphere of heaven, she snapped completely straight-her frail, stooped over body became just as straight as could be. Suddenly, she was once again a beautiful young woman, dressed in her radiant, pure white robe of glory.

Everyone cheered with shouts of joy as the little baby flew into her arms. They had been parted at childbirth. The woman had survived concentration camp, but her baby had not.

Yet God, in His infinite mercy, saw to it that nothing was lost. The love of God is so great that no person could know it all. It truly is beyond finding out, and only eternity will tell it all.

Stood in the pasture and wept

Today I was out feeding and I stood in the pasture and wept. As I looked up at the sky I whispered, "I love you and I miss you so much!"

The rain has cleared the humidity  and everything feels so fresh. All day I was working on insurance and medical bill stuff, avoiding any of them with the name "Crea Rumbo" on them. They bring back the reality of 6 weeks ago when I got to hold our daughter in my arms and watch as she took her last breath.

Moving forward is what I attempt to do every moment. Some moments are easier than others. Standing in the pasture weeping was difficult. It's opening up and allowing myself get into grief. I know it must happen but the reality of how much it hurts is difficult. I have shared with my mom how sometimes I am afraid to allow myself to truly grief because I am afraid I will get into a spiral and not be able to get out of it. Alas, however, it is something that must be done.

While I wept, the animals came up to me and sniffed me. It's interesting how much animals can feel. They even left their food to come and make contact with me. ...God's little mercies, I think.

I know that the moments will get easier and moving forward won't feel like such a betrayal to all that was. These are the real emotions that come with losing someone so dear.

Now, as I scribe these few words, the door of her bedroom continues to make its presence known. One day soon, I will go I and sort thru all of our baby stuff. I'll put them all away in the hopes that I will one day soon begin to dream again.

All this is my reality right now. Not all moments are as difficult. I suspect when I get back to work and get into a routine, the moments will be easier.

Grief, you have my attention now. Be easy on this broken heart.

Til this lion roars again, we take each moment in stride, one foot I front of the other.

A note from Momma to Crea

 

 

I believe in the sun, even when it does not shine.

I believe in Love, even when I feel it not.

And I believe in God, even when He is silent.

 

If you have known me for any length of time, you have heard me share this. Today, I want to share with you where it is from. These words were etched on a wall of a container that was used during the holocaust.  It is believed that families were forced to strip all their clothes and were then put in these containers, much like railroad cars and they were left there to parish. When I first read these words and realized the situation this person or persons were in and they etched these words on the dark walls of what would become their tomb, the impact on me was profound. These families lost everything. Many of them were forced to watch their loved ones parish, including their husbands, wives and, yes, even their children. All earthly possessions, up to the clothes on their backs had been stripped from them. From a place that could not be more dark, more hopeless, more lonely and more silent, they wrote these words.

Today, I stand before you as a mother. I can’t express to you the pride I feel to say that. Last Friday, at 11:49am I got to look into the eyes of our most precious daughter as she blinked her eyes at me. From the table I was laying on, I reached over and touched her tiny hands as tears fell from my eyes. All I have drempt of for 14 years became a miraculous reality at 11:49 September 6.

On September 7, we held our daughter as she took her last breathes.

We have had and will continue to have many moments of sorrow and tears. But equally, we have had and will continue to have moments of great gratitude.

This journey has not been easy. But we never despised our journey.

In these few moments, if you will allow this proud mother to share, I would like to share with you some parts of the journey that you may not have known. I pray that in these next few moments, you will be inspired to believe for the extraordinary in  your own life. That you may be challenged to believe despite all obstacles for the miraculous. And most of all, that you may see and know that the God we serve IS a good God and that He is FAITHFUL, faithful, faithful!

Febuary 7, we discovered we were pregnant! What you need to know about this is that Terry had been told that he would never have children. I had been told of how difficult it would be and I already had 8 babies in heaven whom I will meet one day.

March 3, Terry and I were out in the pasture and while standing there, blood started dripping down my leg. Terry took me inside where the bleeding continued. He asked me, “do you think? Do you think?” I said, “No, I don’t think so but I don’t know.” I had a small group of friends I had shared our news with and called on them to pray. Terry and I spent the entire night praying, crying and yes, even grieving.

The next day, we went to have a sono to see if our baby was ok. And there she was, heart beating strong. We knew then that our baby was a warrior. We, here on the outside in utter panic, and she, steadfast…without worry and strong.

April 29, we had another scare with more bleeding. Another sono would reveal Crea still without worry, strong.

May 28 we received the news that she had omphelecelle and spina bifida. We were left speechless. But because she was still fighting, we were going to fight with her. At that moment, as a family, we knew we were going to believe.  That afternoon, on our way home, there was a small homemade sign on the side of the road that read, “Believe”. There was no doubt in our minds that we were in this for the long haul. We shared with everyone the diagnosis and we all prayed, believing for a miracle.

June 25, we returned to the doctor and they mentioned NOTHING of the Spina Bifida. Our prayers had been answered and Crea was still fighting, still strong.

July 8 at 4am my water bag ruptured. This would begin 9 weeks of bedrest.

Crea was physically on this earth, outside my womb for 25 hours. It was only 25 hours that we got to see her face, touch her hands and kiss her face. But in the last week, I have reflected on what made her impact on all of us so profound. This is what I believe. Crea never knew worry. She never knew fear. She never thought of the what if’s. She never experienced doubt.

It is through her life in my womb, without worry. Strong. That we have learned true faith. We have learned to believe despite. No matter what the situation was around her, her spirit was steadfast. Through her beating heart, we continued to believe in the impossible. Terry and I continued to dream of what Thanksgiving and Christmas would be for our little family this year.

Crea was a dream come true! Every step of the journey, she defied odds and helped us believe in this miracle! Crea lived as she had been named! It is thru her incredible strength and purest trust and reliance in God that I can stand here today, even in the deepest of grief that I can tell you with uncensored boldness that there is a God who loves us and desires to give us our desires. The wait may seem too long. The journey may seem impossible. The disappointment may be to great or the fear too overwhelming. And in the end, it may not look like we thought it would look, but if we can BELIEVE He is good and He is faithful, we will see his promise unfold before us!!!

He did what He said he would do! Terry and I are parents. We held our baby girl and a small part of each of us in her. What an absolute honor to be her parents.  To a little girl that has impacted so many. Crea, my sweet, sweet girl, doctors told us of all your physical imperfections but your spirit and your life and what you have taught us were all so perfect!!

How can I stand here and be mad? Will I have moments that missing her seems too much to bear? Absolutely.  I think about the mother's days and father's days to come. The holidays that Terry and I had already planned out and it hurts me to think of walking thru those days. But inside, I know that her incredible legacy will strengthen us because we will not allow the promise that was fulfilled Sept 6 to be dishonored.

Terry is an amazing father. My love, my love, what words can I ever find to express the good, kind and noble man that you are?  You are God's restoring hand in my life.
And iIam a mother. I thank Him. I am so grateful. So honored.

In the many moments that are to come, no matter the emotion I must walk thru, gratitude will be constant in my life. I am truly, truly grateful for this journey.

If you do not believe our God is real. Is good.  And is faithful because you feel He has disappointed you or didn't answer the way you wanted, let me challenge you today. His goodness and faithfulness are not bound by what is fair. "Fair" would mean my daughter would still be here on earth. It would only be fair to expect that this would have turned out differently...the way I saw it should be.

But after all my selfish motives have melted away, and I allow anger to also make its way out of my life, the situation is this...
We get to be parents to an amazing little girl who is forever pure and innocent and is probably up in heaven riding Zoe, playing with Flinty and her 8 siblings.

We can look back at this journey and know our faith is being built beyond what we could imagine.
And most of all, we are so grateful. Terry and I spoke about if we knew how it would go, we would still do it again. She has been worth every moment!

There was a sign hung in the room where we got to spend our moments with her. It read, “Life is not measured by the breathes you take, but by the moments that take your breathe away”

Crea, you took your last breathes in that room while taking our breathe away. Mi niña, my love, my heart manifested on this earth, we love you. We will miss not having you in our earthly moments. We look forward to seeing you again soon, my sweet sweet girl!  En todo el mundo, no aye otra como tu! Siempre estare agradecida que fuiste mi hija. Te amo. Te amo.

Thank you for showing us to believe despite.

 

Tired of crying

Grief is an interesting thing. It comes out of no where.  At any moment, I am mozing along my day feeling pretty good and all of the sudden, I feel it; a large knot in my chest that makes its way up to my throat. Then all of the sudden, out of no where, a thought comes to mind and I am fighting back tears.

Here's the thing...

I am mad/sad.  We are being honest about this process, right?  So there it is. I am mad/sad. I read something the other day that said something to the effect of how God can handle my mad.  At the time when I read it I thought, "I'm not mad." But today, I am mad/sad.  I am mad that I a sad.  I am not normally a sad person.  In fact, my periods of sad are often tempered with the moving on of life. However, today I find that because of my physical limitations and the fact that I don't get to go back to work yet, my "moving on" is incredibly limited.

Today, I ran into town to get Terry's new glasses and I sat in the parking lot for 15 minutes.  I looked all around watching the parking lot to make sure I wouldn't see anyone that knew me. What in the world?!?

For the most part, our moments have been good lately. I guess the moments today are just part of it. We have an appointment coming up where I will get to see if they release me for work. We are also hoping to get results from bloodwork they took on Crea. We are hoping it will give us some answers as to what, why, etc.  I have set in my mind there is a chance we may never know the why. 

Today, my mind has been scattered (if you can't tell by this post). When I started crying, I got mad and said, "I'm so damn tired of crying! You are going to be ok woman!"  (Yes, I call myself woman.)
I know that this too will pass. I think once I get to work, it will make it a little easier.

For now, pardon my not so cheery post. But we've got to take the good with the not so good....and this is part of the latter.

Mad/sad comes in waves. For now, I just buckle down til it passes and as those around me have said to me, I "must be patient with myself".

PS
Amazingly, thru my mad/sad day, this song has been in my head all day.  I shared it on FB today and if you have a chance, what the video. The song is SO powerful!  She wrote it for a friend of hers that was pregnant when she found out she had breast cancer. She went thru chemo while pregnant and delivered a healthy baby, but she is still fighting.

Also, they have footage of one of my heroes, Robin Roberts thru her fight. There is one part that Robin Roberts is in her hospital room crying...I welled up with tears because I remember sitting in my hospital room at times crying. There were such hard days. It also got me to reflecting on the day we were getting ready to leave the hospital without our baby girl.

I'd like to share the status I posted that morning....

At this moment, I am laying in the bed that served as my nest for the last 9 weeks. My faithful husband is downstairs unloading the first round of items into the truck so we can head home. The room is quiet now. No monitors letting me hear my sweet daughter's heart. No blood pressure cuff going off or knocks on the door from nurses or staff.
Just me.
I feel a physical pain in my chest that validates, "this. is. real."
The funeral home will be picking her body up in an hour.
We will be making our way to our real nest...home. There i will relearn to live again. To see my beloved Kota bear, my herd. After 2 months, I will slowly get back into a life.
I pause. Look out at the familiar scene of the brick building next to us.
I look at my still swollen belly and I can no longer feel her Ninja kicks.
At this moment, I lift my arms high with every sorrow inside me and in my spirit I cry, "I MISS HER!"
And in that same breathe, my arms fall to this bed and my heavy head lays on my chest and I whisper, "but I am so grateful that you made good on your promise to allow me to see her and be mom"

This sorrow will come in waves.
Our grief is real.
But our sincere gratitude is equally as real.

These 9 weeks have been difficult. I love what one of the nurses said to me this morning. She commented that maybe I was put on bedrest so I could be still and have time to get to know Crea so I could share her with the world.
...maybe.

For now, the tears will start and stop today.