You should get smell-a-vision.

Or smell-a-puter.
(That doesn't sound very good, does it?)
Or whatever.

Christmas Eve.
Be jealous.
If the wise men lived in Kansas, they'd be bringing these gifts to baby Jesus.
Or, at least to his parents.

Poinsettia Punch

Vietnamese Spring Rolls
These are not your China-buffet-msg-coma egg rolls.
These are my dad's spring rolls.
And they are the bee's knees.

Follow this by Cheese fondue
and salad
and chocolate truffles.
Merry Christmas.

The one about amazing people and our not-so-amazing tree.

So remember when I used to have some sort of crazy blog?
And I actually wrote in it?
Yeah.
Sorry about that folks.
I was busy stuffing my face and sleeping.
Because I am on vacation.

I have now been off of school for a week.
And, you know what?
I think I could do this stay-at-home-wife thing.
Except the whole health insurance
and retirement
and paycheck
and recess duty in the bitter Kansas wind
and grading my life away on Sunday afternoons
are kind of nice.

I have already taken down all of our Christmas decorations.
And, by all, I mean about 4 of them.
Including the tree that was ransacked by our crazy cat.
Anybody have some ideas about how to stop fat cats from destroying Christmas trees?
I asked Dave (thinking that he was some sort of crazy animal expert)
and his reply was nothing short of giving Sarah McLachlan and her ASPCA friends a heart attack.

You're welcome.

Anyways.

Our tree looked extra special this year.

Not because all of the ornaments were on the top 

or chased under our couch.

But, because we got some extra special ones.

I already showed you this one that my coworker gave me.

But then, her mother (and house seller extraordinaire) gave us this one.

And then, remember back in October when I mentioned some college acquaintances that lost their baby?

Yeah, well.  

They are no longer acquaintances.

They are dear friends.

Whom I have a bond with that I don't have with many other people.

N has an amazing heart.

And I am disappointed that I didn't know her well in college.

And I am even more disappointed that we know each other now

because of Maggie and Violet.

She sent two things for us to remember Maggie.

Of course, my National Geographic-photography skills were not up to par when I was doing my photo shoot.  Instead, I got blurry craziness.  (Does it have something to do with me not wearing my contacts or glasses while taking the pictures?)

The other item was a beautiful necklace.

(I am not even going to make you suffer through my photos of that one. It was pathetic.)

It was a horseshoe for good luck

for a new year.

(Not a Colts necklace like Dave originally thought).

She got it from this talented lady (who also has an etsy shop) and it is beautiful.

I have already gotten a ton of compliments on it.

Thank you, N.

(And, I'm glad Georgia is enjoying the butterfly ornament.)

Finally, for Christmas, my parents internet-searched the heck out of the googs and found this.

It's a freaking red-tailed-hawk ornament!

How in the world they found that, I still have no idea.

I love it.

This should show you how thoughtful and amazing my parental units are.

Thanks, ma and pa.

And if Kitty destroys any of these ornaments she will be the next star on Sarah's videos.

Let's find the good in all this.

Okay. So I'm trying to stay positive.
I'm trying really hard not to be Negative Nelly.
I know life could be way, way worse.
So I'm working really hard at
thinking about the (wine or beer or mixed cocktail) glass as half full.
I'm trying to find the humor in all of this.
But I can't.
I'm finding it rather hard.
So I thought maybe you could help me.

Here are the things I'm needing help in finding joy in:
(and don't ask but I'm hen pecking this on my iPod.
Therefore I cannot use the bullet function for some reason. That's dumb.)

Number 1:
I have a sharps container on my kitchen counter.
And it is half-way full already (literally not figuratively).

Number 2:
More empty syringes will be added to it tonight, tomorrow night, and Wednesday night
after Dave gives me more shots.

Number 3:
I have talked with the doctor's office and pharmacy more in the last few days
than I've talked with my own family. They are on speed dial.

Number 4:
3 doctor's appointments an hour away in 6 days.
Totally overrated.

Number 5:
And after al this there is still no certainty that
things will work out.

Number 6:
Another year that we aren't sending out a Christmas card.
It's not too exciting to send one out of just the two of us.
Again.
Plus those are supposed to bring good news, right?
Pretty sure no one wants to read about Maggie in a Christmas letter.

Number 7:
I feel like a disappointment and failure.
I've disappointed my family by not giving them
a child or grandchild or niece or nephew.
This is something that I should be able to do easily.
And I can't.
And it's humiliating and embarrassing.
I know, it shouldn't be.
It's not my fault.
It's nothing I can control or do anything about.
But ask any woman who has dealt with infertility or lost a child.
And I can guarantee they feel humiliated and
Completely ashamed.

Number 8:
What if Maggie was my only chance?

You know what?

You know what?

It's kind of annoying when you're looking for tissue paper and you stumble across your daughter's Christmas dress.  Super annoying.  It is such a cute dress.  And her fattiness and giggles would have looked adorable in it.
***********************************************
Cats really like Christmas trees and ornaments. And they also like to sleep.  All day long.
***********************************************
NPR did a story on how scientists have found that mothers retain fetal cells for decades after the child is born. For more, go to this site to listen or read the transcript.   So incredibly comforting.  
Maggie is with me.  Every single day.  Every minute.  She's more than just in my heart. And, all you other moms who have lost babies?  Your sweet ones are with you too.
***********************************************
My heart goes out to Michelle Duggar.  Yes, she's really good at having kids.  Too many kids? Probably.  Are they people I would probably be friends with?  Probably not.  Do they need to lay off the J names?  You betcha.  But, they've still lost a child.  This Huffington Post article tells more about it. And, as much as it saddens me, I appreciate that it is bringing the topic of miscarriages and stillbirths out in the open.  The article mentioned:

• The risk of miscarrying in the second trimester drops to just one or two percent.
• Research shows that women who experience miscarriages or stillbirths experience the same levels of symptoms and sandess- no matter how far along they were.  So, it doesn't matter if you were 6-weeks along or 30-weeks along.  Coping with loss is hard and heartbreaking and a journey.  No matter what.
• Michelle Duggar may not get the sympathy others do, as she has so many children already.  However, it's important not to judge each other's grief.

Maybe people will actually start talking about this.  And realizing that it's an issue.  A huge issue that is never addressed.

***********************************************

Remember back when, when I mentioned that there was a hawk watching over Maggie?

Well, it seems like either hawks are proliferating like crazy

or I'm noticing them more.

Or maybe Maggie is trying to tell me that she's with me.

Whenever Dave sees one now he says, "If we were Native Americans, we'd be pumped."

I'm pumped anyways.

Even though I'm a German-Arizonan-Minnesotan-Kansan.

Well, someone sent me some information about hawks.

What hawks symbolize to Native Americans.

A hawk is called a messenger, protector, and visionary.

The hawk indicates that you are awakening to your soul purpose; it can teach you how to fly high and still stay grounded.

The hawk is an animal of flight; it sees everything while looking down and, therefore, it has a larger perspective of what is going on down below.  

It can see the smallest creatures below. 

Like Mags.

Hawks teach you to be observant and they soar with the power to overcome difficult situations.  They soar in circles over the life of the earth, asking you to circle over your life and view it from a higher perspective.

If a hawk has soared into your life, you require a higher perspective. You need to see the details of what is going on and look at the bigger picture.  Take a look at your situation from above.

Much easier said than done.

But, I'll keep trying to fly high and stay grounded.

To have a bigger perspective.

To soar with power and try to overcome difficult situations.

More ornaments

I've been enjoying me some Pinterest crafts.

(If you're unaware of what Pinterest is, that's great.

You'll save yourself some time if you don't know what it is).

And, I haven't just pinned stuff.

I actually made stuff too.

Caramels.

Chili.

Thanksgiving cornucopias.

And today I made ornaments.

Every year I make ornaments for my students.

But honestly, folks.

It took me for.ev.er to make those blasted things.

I would spend hours writing their names on them.

And waiting for it to dry.

Then I would spend another night 

painting polka dots or basketballs and such on them.

It was a 3 night event.

But Pinterest saved me.

I found these.

And, what's even better?

They are done and wrapped.

And they only took me 4-5 hours to do it all.

And I hardly needed anything.

Ornaments.

Glitter.

And some Pledge tile cleaner.

And that's it.

I added their names, some dots, and some ribbon.

And, if you have a kid in my class.

Please don't tell them. :)

Thanks.

Ornaments

Christmas came early.

My sweet, sweet friend and co-worker 

handed me a box this week.

And, inside was this.

Isn't it beautiful?

It's hanging front and center on our tree.
(The tree that our cat is obsessed it and will not leave alone.  She's going to National Lampoon herself pretty soon if she's not careful.)

 Even Fergie likes it.

****************************************

And, next to Maggie's ornament is the oldest one that I have.

I got it for my first Christmas from my Aunt Ellen.
She's not technically my aunt, but she is.
In our hearts.
She made this for me 31 years ago.
This past May her wonderful husband, Dan, passed away.
He joined Maggie.
Ellen and I know that Dan is teasing and hugging Maggie.
Just like he teased and hugged me.

So, I'm hanging it next to Maggie's.
So that I can remember Ellen
and Dan.
And pray for peace
and moments of joy
amidst the moments of remembering
and sadness.

What it is.

And, you pray with your whole heart, that it really is true that lightning never strikes the same place twice.

************************************

I found the following article and it, once again, sums up exactly what I am feeling and thinking.

The heartbreak of infant loss

By Laura Schubert

October 6, 2011

Did you know that October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month? I'll bet not. Despite the infant mortality crisis that's been at the forefront of Milwaukee's public health news for months, the only people who have more than a cursory comprehension of what it means to lose a baby are those who've lived it.

Infant loss is nature's cruelest practical joke. It's investing all of the required time and effort into pregnancy, only to be robbed of the result. It's cradling a body that grew within your own and trying to reconcile the cold, lifeless form in your arms with your memory of the baby who turned double flips in your womb.

It's worrying that you'll forget what your child looked like and snapping an album's worth of photos that no one will ever ask to see. It's sobbing so hard you can't breathe and wondering if it's possible to cry yourself to death.

Infant loss is handing off a Moses basket to the nurse who's drawn the unfortunate duty of delivering your pride and joy to the morgue and walking out of a hospital with empty arms.

It's boxing up brand new baby clothes and buying a 24-inch casket. It's sifting through sympathy cards, willing your foolish body to stop lactating, clutching your baby's blanket to your chest in hopes of soothing the piercing ache in your heart.

It's resisting the urge to smack the clueless individuals who compare your situation to the death of their dog or who tell you you'll have another baby, as if children are somehow replaceable.

Infant loss is explaining to your 7-year-old that sometimes babies die and being stumped into silence when she asks you why. It's watching other families live out your happy ending and fighting a fresh round of grief with every milestone you miss.

It's being shut out of play groups for perpetuity. It's skipping social events with expectant and newly minted mothers because, as a walking worst-case scenario, you don't want to put a damper on the party.

It's listening to other women gripe about motherhood and realizing that you no longer relate to their petty parental complaints because, frankly, when you've buried a baby, a sleepless night with a vomiting toddler sounds something like a gift.

Infant loss is pruning from your life the friends and relatives who ignore or minimize your loss. It's recognizing that, while they may not mean to be hurtful, the fact that they don't know any better doesn't make their utter lack of empathy one whit easier to bear.

My baby girl would have been 5 years old this month. I don't know what she'd look like, what her favorite food would be. I've never had the privilege of tucking her into bed, taking her to the zoo or kissing her boo-boos. I will never watch her graduate or walk down the aisle.

Infant loss is more than an empty cradle. It's a life sentence.

Amen.

Oh yah, it's the holidays.

Before I even start, I just needed to get this off of my chest.
I have to tell someone.
My husband is watching a movie on the Lifetime channel.
And he won't stop.
He is engrossed in The Road to Christmas.
Yeah, I know.
He just said, "And you love it, too...We're losers."
(Pretty sure this is not the high point in Jennifer Grey's career.)

******************************************
Anywho.
Everyone has warned me that the holidays were going to be hard.
I was pretty sure that they were dumb.
I'm now 100% sure that I am dumb.
Because they were totally right.

Dave and I went up to Minnesota to spend Thanksgiving with his family.
He and I drove up on Wednesday evening.
And, in between our conversations about George Washington Carver
and Arizona being the 48th state
and watching season 3 of Dexter,
we mentioned Maggie only a few times.
Like how our backseat was empty.
And how it shouldn't have been.

Dave built this when he was in high school.  He watches Lifetime movies and builds stuff out of wood.

We went to church on Thursday morning.
I was good.
Just fine
until
I heard baby squeaks behind me.
You know what I mean, right?
Those cute little squeaks of newborn-ness.
Those ones.
Those heart-melting
little squeaks.

I kept singing
and only stole one little glance back at that little bundle
of two-week-old goodness.
And quickly realized that that was a terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad idea.
I held it together.
For awhile.
And, then.
They just came.
Stupid tears.
And I couldn't stop them.

Then, the panic set in.
Because I knew the service would be ending soon and we would be socializing
and I would be that lady.
The one that was crying awkwardly
and no one knows whether they should look at her
or just look away.
I'm hoping they just thought I had really bad allergies.
Or I got a giant paper cut from the hymnal.
Or something.

I'll just say this.
It's really hard to sing songs of thanksgiving.
I know I have a lot to be thankful for.
But still.
Thank goodness that I then proceeded to help myself to a delicious
food coma for the next few hours.
Can I get an amen?
Amen.

Other highlights of the weekend:

• Visiting the new coffee shop in his hometown with his mama.  I ate the most delicious cream horn there. The only thing that could have improved the whole situation would be 1.) elastic comfy pants 2). a fireplace 3.) a bundle of squeaking goodness of my own next to me.
• Getting a sewing machine from my mother-in-law.  I am now going to be in the running for Most Perfect and Wonderful Wife. I just need to wear high heels on a regular basis and bear him some healthy childrens. At the same time. That shouldn't be too tough. Oh wait.  I thought that 4 freaking years ago.
• Dave and I drove to the Twin Cities for a quick trip. I got to meet some friends for lunch (which consisted of us stuffing our faces with delicious foods and drinks) while trying to smash 3 years of life into a 2.5 hour conversation.  Fantastic.  So good.  I missed them and their crazy Minnesotan accents and Minnesota niceness.  I miss them.  And those cities. 
• I got to have some Caribou Coffee.  The line was forever. And everyone in line had boots with the fur. 

******************************************
And, I have some plans for posting a bit more often this week.  In fact, my plan of posts include (not in any order):

• Your Nature Guide to Hawks and why they are awesome
• Archived pictures from Summer that Have been Resurrected from the dead
• More resurrected pictures from the summer.
• What Santa should bring me for Christmas
• Some new favorites

And, just because everyone should be able to enjoy this Minnesota awesomeness.

I did it. Even though I blubbered.

Get it here.

I did it.
I showed her pictures and
I spoke about her.
My precious daughter.

I don't know if I did her justice
(I don't think I ever will),
but I did my best.
The only thing is that I definitely didn't do was
make it through without crying.
I was on the first slide.
The tears came.
I'm positive that I blubbered.
And my voice squeaked at some many points.
But,
I did it.
I got through it.
That was my goal.
I spoke about Mags.
I told her story.
I told my story.
Our story.
The story of my daughter and me.
The story that's too short.
The one that doesn't end the way I planned.
Or wanted.
But, I'm determined to make sure that the horrible ending
is not really the end of her
and us.

And, I'm proud of myself.
That more women are aware
that pregnancy doesn't always work out perfectly.
That it doesn't always happen the way you envision it will.
And, more women are aware of what they
should and shouldn't do.
And what things they should and shouldn't say.
And, if I can help one woman from not hearing,
"Everything happens for a reason" or
"You can always have another" or
"Your angel is watching you from heaven."
And, instead, she hears,
"I'm sorry" or
"I'd love to hear about your child, if you'd like."
Then, I've done my job.

I don't have pictures.
I don't know if anyone does, actually.
It wasn't really a photo-opp,
if you know what I'm saying.
Plus, if there were pictures,
I'd need to photo-shop my eyes
so they weren't all red and puffy and teary and squinty.

Enough about me, though.
I did want to mention, though...
this Sister Care Seminar?
Was fabulous.
I'd completely recommend it to any woman
who wants to learn a bit about how to care and support women.
Because, honestly?
The church does drop the ball sometimes.
And, it is more likely that you will be asked to help and support a friend
before that friend goes to
their pastor or deacon or elder or professional shrink.
We, as women, need to help each other,
support, and pray for each other.

And, I was surrounded by some of the most important and caring women in my life.
Some I had known for years,
while others I had just met.

(If you want to attend a Sister Care Seminar, look here--they are going on for the next several months.)

And, they ended with a blessing.
I chose the parts that spoke to me the most...

May God bless you with healing for wounds from the past

and all that breaks your heart today.

May your tears be transformed into life-giving

compassion and love for others.

Go now with the assurance that you are beloved

and called to be a living blessing to others.

Amen.

Splattering of Whatever.

I almost bought a gun this weekend.
Not just a gun.
A hand gun.
A scary looking one (this is the city-girl in me speaking).
I said as long as I didn't have to touch it
that I'd put it under my name.
I didn't end up having to do that.
Instead, I just sat on the floor in Cabella's
for way too long.
Watching weirdos buy guns.
In their pajama pants.
Holding their half-filled bottle of chew-spit-nastiness.
There are A LOT of weirdos buying guns these days.
But, at least there's a screening process to buy guns.
There isn't one to have kids.
(Dumb.)
******************************************


I had the chance to meet with a friend of a cousin.
She lost her daughter a few weeks ago
so we met to talk.
I was nervous.
I didn't think I'd be much help.
I had no idea what I would say
and I was worried that I would say the wrong thing.


We met over coffee.
And man oh man.
I sent so many prayers up
thanking God that I'm where I am now.
I forgot (or blocked it out) what it was like to be at that point.
Fresh out.
So raw.
Your heart hurts from feeling so much.
Your brain hurts from thinking so much.
And tears spill out every time you blink.
And breathe.


And, although I went to help her (as much as I could),
it ended up being something helpful for me.
I realized that, although I may not be where I want to be, 
or where I think I should be,
I have come a long ways.
I am not where I was.
I have grown.
I have survived.
I have figured out how to deal with this hole.
And that was really, really good for me to see.


And, although I think I should be at a different place.
Or, at least, I want to be at a different place,
I know I'm where I should be.
And I know I have grown
and I'm not where I started out.
(Thank you, Lord).


It does get better, H.G.
You won't ever stop missing her
or loving her.
And that hole will never be filled.
But it does get better.
You learn how to manage.
*************************************************
A parent of a past student gave me a card 
and some delicious cookies.
As a gift for speaking this weekend.


Thank you, RF.
They were absolutely delicious.
We ate them all in one sitting.
(We'd love the recipe.)
Our bellies and hearts were full.
*************************************************
People have been giving me notes and cards lately.
They must know I need them.
My heart needs them.
Not only is the news from the doctor getting me down,
but I am getting a wee-bit nervous about speaking on Saturday.
I'm not nervous about speaking in front of a crowd.
I'm nervous to speak about Maggie.
What if I don't explain myself well enough?
What if I don't do her justice?
What if I blubber and do the ugly cry
in.front.of.everyone?


I got a letter that was just what I needed.
The letter reminded me that Maggie's death was not the end of the story.
The story continues as I try to help other women who are hurting.
Her story.  My story.  Our story is not done.
I want to know the "rest of the story." (sidenote: RIP Andy "Eyebrows" Rooney).
I don't want the ending to be her death.
And I don't want it to end in my sadness and heart break.
I want Maggie's story to continue.
To bear fruit.
To help and heal others.
If this is what I'm supposed to do, 
I'll do it.
I'll help others.
I'll tell my story.
Her story.
I wish there could have been another way to do it, though.

***************************************************
I believe that this is true.
There is joy coming in the morning.

No Source.  Just from my new addiction pinterest.

Synopsis of the last week...

I've been blogging over the past week.
But, I haven't posted them.
The details aren't important.
My diarrhea of the mouth and
stream of consciousness is not necessary to post.

But, the synopsis?
The doctor's appointments have started again.
Unfortunately, they have not gone the way I hoped they would.
I planned them in my head way differently.
I will continue to see Dr. Grainger for, at least, another few months.
And, that folks?
Is heartbreaking.
And devastating.

I'm heartbroken.
I love the guy (and the nurses there) but, seriously,
I'd be way okay to never step foot in that office again.
I so, so hoped for different news.

This has been one of those weeks when my list of questions for God
keeps getting longer
and longer
and longer
and longer.
Because, for some reason,
my plans and God's don't quite jive.
The things that I'm hoping for
and praying for
and wanting
are not happening.
And I wish I knew why.

Why I am on this journey.
Why my body can't do what every.single.other.woman can do.
Why it seems so easy for everyone else
but not for me.
Why my body let my daughter die.
Why I killed her.
Why I miss her so much.  Still.
Why I can't make it an hour without thinking about her.

Why something- one thing- can't just go the way I hoped.

But, I will keep waiting.
Because, I have hope that
it will be worth it.

Source

And, in the meantime...

Source

I will keep crying.
And, can you keep praying?

Halloween

Another holiday has passed without Maggie.
One that I expected to spend with her.
I had no fancy plans of dressing her up and taking her out.
But, it would have been fun for her to join some other kids.

I have been reminded constantly that she is not here.
And I should have been carrying around a little fatty bundle of cuteness.

Do you want to eat up this cotton candy?  Or maybe you prefer sushi?

Source

Source

Or, my favorite

Source

Maybe next year?
That's a huge question mark.

Dear You, Tell your story.

I'm a sucker cards and stationery.

I love Brian Andreas and his StoryPeople.

And Curly Girl Design. (That's where this one is from.)

And, I found another one today while I was in Hallmark.

The Kelly Rae Roberts Collection.

It doesn't have cards or stationery,
but it does have cute magnets and wall hangings.

And, I found a few that I thought said things so well.

I wish they would have had this one there.
I would have bought it.

www.kellyraeroberts.com

I would read it every morning.

And remind myself that
it's really going to be okay.

It would be there to remind me
on those mornings when
I don't feel like getting out of bed
or answering the phone.
And my heart is aching.
And I miss my daughter.
And I miss our family.
Or, what could have been our family.

I can read it when
I feel like I should be over all of this.
Like I shouldn't be so sad
or so sensitive.
And there's that voice in my head that says,
"Seriously, you should be over this.
Get over it.
Move on."
But I'm still sad
and missing her.
This could remind me that I will be okay.
For realsies.

I would read it when
I make phone calls to nurses
and prescriptions to take
and shots to jam in me at 3 am
and calendars to keep track of
and doctors to visit.

And then, 

when I realize I'm going to be okay,

I could say this:

www.kellyraeroberts.com

That's what I need sometimes.

A good swift, kiss in the arse.

A reminder to be strong and courageous.

A reminder that I will not be crushed

or destroyed

or alone.

"We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed." 2 Corinthians 4:8-9

I can will be tough

and courageous

and strong.

I am not alone.

However, I ended up buying a small one of these:

www.kellyraeroberts.com 

I bought it to remind me that my story, 

no matter how 

depressing

or annoying

or unhappy

or never-ending it seems to be.

Or how much I want it to be over, 

it is important.

And it matters.

And I need to tell it.

We need to tell our stories.

Tell your story.

It matters.

And it helps people.

It helps you.

It helps us.

Pumpkin Delivery

Last night a dear friend swung by our place to drop something off.

I was poking my eyes out with hot skewers and rolling down slides of razor blades working on grade cards.

I was completely up for a little diversion.

Something that she and 2 year old daughter made.

She said that hot glue guns and 2 year olds aren't the best combination.

Parker has been potty-trained since she was about 18 days old.

So, I'm pretty sure she's mastered the hot glue gun, too.

Isn't this fantastic?  

So creative and thoughtful.

But, it's just totally...fantastic.

(Like, totally...like, yeah.)

And a great (and the only) Halloween decoration in our house.

It's a pumpkin wearing a hat!

It's brilliant.

And it has braids.  

Braids!

Only a genius with a huge heart could think up something like this.

Forget carving and guts and stuff.

Totally going to glue felt and balls all over my gourds next time.

(Said that for you, A & G).

Thank you for the wonderful gift.

And, since I can't pose the Magster with it, Fergie will have to do.

So great.  

(Dave was disappointed he missed the delivery.  He was busy at the JuCo having students watch him cantor and gallop.)

1 year

Before I even start--prayers are needed for a friend of a cousin.  Last night, another mama (a friend of my cousin) delivered her stillborn daughter.  She had been on bedrest and the doctor was trying to hold off delivering until she was 35 weeks.  Her 35 week mark would have been Friday.  Just a few days away.

Please keep the family in your prayers as they prepare a memorial service and deal with the loss of their daughter.
************************************************

One year ago today, the Magic was just beginning.

October 18 was the day Maggie was conceived.

Please.  Don't get uncomfortable.

Or grossed out.

Dave wasn't even there.

He was shopping somewhere in Wichita or something.

I don't even know where he was, actually.

I think that's funny.

Right?

It's weird how you can go from such a high
to such a low
in such a short amount of time.

I didn't realize how that Monday
one year ago
could change
everything.
Absolutely everything.

And, I wish I could go back a year ago and enjoy those moments again.
The moments of high hopes
and nervousness
and innocence.
I wish I could enjoy those moments of only thinking,
"I hope I'm pregnant.
I hope it works."

Because now, it will be,
"I hope I'm pregnant.
I hope it works
and I hope her heart never stops beating."

Because even with a positive result,
it doesn't mean it's for sure.

One year can change so much.

October 15

The past week has been harder than normal.
Maybe it was because there have been so reminders.
Of what should have been.
And what isn't.
For me.
And for so many other families.

I knew October would be a hard month.
This was the month that Maggie joined our family.
But, on top of that, October is the month to remember our children.
Lost through miscarriage
or stillbirth
or SIDS
or ectopic pregnancies
or infant death.

Just in the U.S.,
2,000 women lose a baby every day.

From iamtheface.org.  

That's 730,000 a year.
And, those are the ones that are reported.
That doesn't include those that people don't talk about.
Or the ones in the other 190+ countries in the world.
If we did, there would be more than
138,000,000 babies lost each year.

And, for some reason, this still isn't an urgent matter.
The medical field still cannot find explanations for 50% of these deaths.
So, 69,350,000 babies die in one year
for no. reason. at. all.
We have no explanation for why they died.
And, still, nothing is done.
It is still not really talked about.
You don't see anything in the news.
And we still, in 2011,
cannot give families answers about
why their child died?

I'll get off my soapbox now.
*******************************************
I was saying that this month has been hard.
And my coworkers knew that.

They knew that I would be struggling a bit more.
And they didn't ignore it.

And think that if they didn't mention it, i wouldn't have to think of it.
Instead, they acknowledged how much
this sucks sometimes.

And, I was reminded that it's not everyday that you work with people who are so

thoughtful

and gracious

and supportive.

Thank you.

*******************************************

And finally, October 15.

A day to remember.

We lit a candle to remember Maggie.

And we lit 6 more.

For Nancy and her daughter, Violet.

Who has been gone for only 6 days.

For Jennie and her son, Owen.

For Heather and her son, Isaac.

For my cousins and their sweet babies.

For the Kings and their babies.

The sixth was for others- whom I will not name for privacy.

But you know who you are.

I lit a candle for you and your babies.

I prayed that we will find peace 

as we continue through this journey.

Fergie even helped.

And, I didn't want to blow them out.
It felt like another goodbye.
Even though it's not.

From this website. Love her stuff!