Tonight I remember

I can remember it like it was yesterday. The excitement of having a baby. The thrill of being pregnant. Everything ahead of us. Then in a moment, the earth shattering moment, when I reached down and realized I was hemorrhaging.  The panic in my voice that woke my boyfriend out of his dead sleep. The frantic drive to the hospital, the nurses telling me they had gone through it too. Threatened Abortion. The word that my mind screamed NO at. No abortion isn’t the right term. I wanted my baby. I didn’t want an abortion.

I remember the drive back home from the hospital, after midnight. I remember stopping at McDonalds for a Chicken Sandwich. I remember calling first my Dad, and then my Mom who was on a business trip out of town. I remember the bath. Bathing, trying to relax. Praying to a God that I wasn’t even sure existed. I remember lying back down, and at some point, going back to the hospital.

I remember the exams. One after another. Each painful. Each invasive. I remember the ultra-sound. The tech holding my hand. Though now that I am remembering back on it I think the Ultra-sound took place on the first visit to the ER and not the second.

I remember the Doctor coming in. Explaining how the cervix is shaped, how the uterus is like a lightbulb, and how my pregnancy though viable was implanted in my cervix and not in my uterus.

I remember the heartbeat. When I had the ultra-sound. I remember hearing the baby’s heartbeat. I remember the technician saying that the baby had a good strong heartbeat. Then I remember the Doctor saying there was nothing that could be done. The only way to stop the bleeding was to remove the pregnancy. Remove the baby. He called it a fetus. But to me it was my baby. My future. The one thing I wanted more than anything else in the entire world.

I don’t remember the surgery. I do remember waking up in the ICU. I remember crying, and praying, and talking to the “Father” at the Catholic hospital where I was admitted.

I remember going home after a week. Being told that I was lucky. They were able to fix it where I could still have children. I remember the depression. Deep, long depression that sucked me in, and threatened everything around me. I remember my boyfriend not understanding. It wasn’t that he didn’t want the baby, he just didn’t understand how I could change so much, essentially overnight.

I remember nine years of not being able to function on November 18th. Then I remember the year that all changed. When the doctor, and new doctor told me that they would schedule my induction. I would go into the hospital at 8pm on November 17, 2013, and by November 18, 2013 I would have my baby girl.

I still feel sad. Sometimes, a mixture of happiness and sadness. As I look at my son, now ten and think what life would be like if he had an older sister or brother. I don’t know why, but I think he would have an older sister. I feel like that baby was a girl. So, sometimes I am sad, thinking about what could have been. But there is my light, my joy, my beautiful baby girl who was born nine years to the day that I lost my first baby. A beautiful smiling, sweet, happy, and amazing young girl who is turning into an amazing young lady. Four years ago, my sorrow turned to joy and I embraced this idea, that after nine long years of suffering, depression, and sadness, I was given a gift to celebrate. I still miss that baby. I still remember every vivid detail of the day I lost her. But I am also celebrating. The doctors and nurses whose wisdom and care enabled me to have four more precious children. Today I rejoice.

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24/7 and the SAHM Gripe

Is there something to be said about traditional family roles? A woman posted a rant on Facebook about how traditional family roles should be:

rant

Igniting a firestorm. Women angry at the very thought. Some asking if this woman is living in the wrong time. But that’s not the real question is it. When did it become popular to be lazy? Women demanded equality, and now they have equality they want more. They want men who will wait on them hand and foot, provide a full income and then do all the housework. I remember being shocked by one of my brothers girlfriends. When she said that she didn’t know how to hang up clothing, had no idea how to operate a clothespin. She was the first person I met who had the world handed to her and couldn’t understand why she would suddenly have to start doing for herself as an adult.

When I met my husband, his father remarked how incredible it was that I not only thanked my future mother in law for making dinner but I cleared my plate away from the table. He hadn’t seen that before in the girls that his sons brought home.

Now the internet is inundated with women who complain nonstop that their husbands or boyfriends don’t do enough around the house.

Perhaps I am coming at it from a different place. I spent some time in my younger years as a single mom. So perhaps having spent the time alone I have a special appreciation for having a husband. So let me say this. I like having my husband working full time outside the home so that I can care for them inside the home.

However, it is not a 24/7 job as some moms like to think. I think about my children, and worry about my children whenever I am awake. I have dreams and sometimes even nightmares about my children throughout the night. But I don’t work 24/7.

I am homeschooling and raising four children. I do 99% of the cooking and house cleaning. But it doesn’t take 24/7.

We have traditional homeschool hours. We school Monday-Friday from 9-3 and some days when we don’t get everything done we have “homework” that we do in the evenings and on weekends. I prepare three meals a day for my family. We eat hot breakfast and lunch nearly every day, and hot dinner every single night. But from about 8pm until I go to bed I am on my own. Saturdays I go grocery shopping and while yes that is a chore done for the family I also think of it as a time to get out of the house, clear my head, and relax. Sundays are a family day, we go to church, we go to the library. Its not a chore to take my children to church, I genuinely enjoy our family time.

Two to three hours a night I am not working. I am not grading school work. I am not cooking meals. I am not cleaning house. I watch television. Read books, play on Facebook. Sometimes I cuddle my youngest, she’s only six months old, but most of the time is my own. This is why I don’t buy into the argument that SAHM’s work 24/7 because I know with my own proper time management I have at least two hours before bed every night that I relax. What I find mildly amusing is a lot of women who complain that being a SAHM is a 24/7 nightmare where their husbands or boyfriends do not do enough to help out also send their children to public school. In fact I have yet to hear from a homeschool mom who complains about her husband helping out or complains that her job is 24/7.

What makes me different though, aside from homeschooling? It starts out by having set bedtimes for my children. By giving my children a bedtime of 7:30, I am able to have the evening free to relax. I also make my kids do chores. They have to pick up their own toys, put their dirty clothing in the hamper and their clean clothes in the closet. My oldest has to help make dinner at least once a week and they all help clean up after dinner. It’s nice. It gives them a boost of confidence knowing that they are capable of helping out.

What I don’t do is get mad at my husband for not cleaning the house. I don’t demand that he do the dishes, laundry, or any of the household chores. I don’t get upset with him if when he comes home from work he wants to veg out in front of the computer or television. I figure that he works hard all day, five days a week, he worries about his job when he is not there.

Since I don’t get angry at him for not doing the housework I have noticed all the things he does do. He works fifty hours a week. He also does the yard work, and household maintenance. He loves giving the kids baths. Reading to them. He loves putting them to bed. He doesn’t have to draw them a bath. He doesn’t have to read them a story after being at work all day. He certainly doesn’t have to be the one to put them to bed. But it makes him happy, there is a bigger point. The point is I recognize that he participates. All to often women are quick to complain, they don’t see the value in what their husbands or boyfriends do. It’s never enough. Its not enough for them if all he does is provide enough income to pay the bills they want more. They fall into this trap that society tells them their husbands or boyfriends don’t do enough, the trap that it’s not okay to be a homemaker and care for their families. One lady ranted that anyone who thinks their husband shouldn’t do housework was born in the wrong time. Why is that? I am perfectly happy with the arrangement my husband and I have. In fact I would rather clean, cook and care for my children than do anything else. I feel incredibly blessed to have a husband who is willing to work outside the home and allow me to stay home with my children, I am truly blessed. I don’t think that I was born in the wrong time. I do hope that my daughters are lucky enough to marry someone who works hard and provides a good home for them, and that they treat their husbands with respect by not demanding he do household chores.

I cannot imagine my Mom complaining about my father not doing enough around the house. Her generation was different though. I don’t know when things changed. I don’t know if it was the feminist movement that taught us to criticize our husbands and demand that he do more and more of the household chores while we glorify ourselves, saying that being a SAHM is a 24/7 job, ignoring any and all down time, and pretending that suddenly motherhood is more difficult than any other job out there. Maybe it’s more simple though. Years ago I was told that if you truly love your job then the time flies by and it doesn’t seem like you are working as much as you really are. Perhaps, I simply love being a SAHM so much that I don’t view it as a 24/7 job like the women who take to Facebook in droves and complain that their husbands simply don’t appreciate them.  enough, or do enough.

Grief Sucks

Grief Sucks, Depression Sucks
It was November 17th, 2004, I was walking from my kitchen to my living room when I hemorrhaged, I knew instantly that I was losing my baby. It took nine years for me to overcome the grief associated with losing that baby. I had a son in 2007, another son in 2012, but it was my daughter born on November 18th, 2013 that finally healed my heart.
On March 20th I experienced another loss, this time, I wasn’t as far along in my pregnancy, and so for a while I was okay. I could rationalize that because I wasn’t as far along that I was fine. For a while that was true. Now, though, these last few weeks have been incredibly difficult.
Whenever I hear a baby cry, or see a newborn, I think that should be us in a few more months. I was due October 10th. As that date approaches, I anticipate that these bouts with depression will continue, that I might continue to have good days and good weeks, but I will also have days when I can barely function when the thought of doing anything more than getting out of bed is almost too much for me.
Three of the common phases of Grief
There are three common phases of grief. Depression, the stage that I am currently stuck in. Trouble sleeping, poor appetite, fatigue, lack of energy, crying spells, self-pity, lonely, isolated, empty, lost and anxious. All textbook examples of grief, and all the symptoms that I experience now almost on a daily basis.
Anger is another stage of grief. I know that I experience anger a lot of time. Anger at myself for not being able to stop the miscarriage. Anger at other moms who choose to abort or abandon their children. However, anger isn’t the primary phase. Instead, I seemed to be stuck in the depression cycle and worried, it took nine years for me to get through the acceptance phase when I had my first loss. I don’t want to go through another nine years bouncing back and forth between depression and anger.
Why did our baby die?
The first time around it was just my then fiancé and me. Our relationship ended shortly after the loss, and so I spent the next nine years wondering why did my baby die. Now I have a wonderful husband and three small children. Our two youngest, three and two, do not know or understand what happened. Sure they knew that we were going to have a baby, and then we weren’t going to have a baby, but luckily they have simply moved passed it as though it is something that normally occurs all the time. Not so lucky is our eight-year-old who just the other day said, “but Mom, I still don’t understand why we cannot have that baby. Why did our baby die?” A question I cannot possibly answer, because I do not know why. No one knows why when a pregnancy ends as early as ours did. Perhaps that is what makes this one difficult. With the first pregnancy, the baby implanted in my cervix, when the baby grew to a certain size I dilated, and they had to remove the baby to save my life, I knew then why the baby died. This time around, however, all I know are the bare facts, I was pregnant, but by the time we went in for the ultrasound at approximately nine weeks there was no heartbeat, the baby had stopped developing somewhere around six weeks, and no one knows why.
Getting in our way
Some things get in the way of the healing process, which makes moving from depression and anger into acceptance. Avoiding emotions are one of the main ways that we get in our way and prevent the healing process from taking place. When we avoid talking about it and avoid dealing with the emotions brought forth by the grief, we get stuck in the anger or depression phase. Compulsive behaviors can also impede or slow down the healing process. Minimizing feelings can also hinder the healing process. When it comes to miscarriage feelings often get minimized. Well-meaning friends and family will tell you that you should be thankful that the baby was lost so early so that there wasn’t an attachment. For us, we found out at approximate five weeks, and when the children were told they named the baby, our baby’s name was Sam, three weeks later Sam was gone, and the oldest sibling already felt an attachment. It is easy to minimize your feelings yourself. After my loss, I thought that it didn’t matter as much because unlike the first time I didn’t hear the babies heartbeat, and unlike the first time I had three children to take care of this time, so I attempted to minimize my feelings.
Knowledge is Power
I learned so much about depression and grief the first time. Still, sometimes I forget, and I have a hard time applying this knowledge. I know that there are several different stages of grief, more so than I have mentioned here. I know that grief doesn’t run in a straight line, that you might enter into acceptance and then go back to depression or anger. I am aware that denial is a stage of grief. I came into the denial stage early this time. We went in for an ultrasound on March fifth, only to find out that the baby had stopped developing. I believed that the doctors and ultrasound technician was wrong, I stayed in this denial phase until March 19th when I began to bleed, and on March 20th I went into the hospital to determine that the miscarriage had in fact taken place. After that, I moved out of the denial phase only to stay trapped between anger and depression. Knowing this, it seems like it would be easier to move into acceptance. I don’t know how to apply this knowledge, but I do know that grief sucks and depression sucks and somehow some way we will just have to get through it.

Should I Homeschool

Should I homeschool?
The question that I get asked the most by young parents or rather parents of young children is “should I homeschool?” It is either that or some variation of that question, including should I continue to homeschool? Why do so many people ask this question? Well part of it stems from problems they see in other schooling options, and part of it comes from a deep seated desire to homeschool that even they themselves cannot fully explain. The choice to homeschool is a personal one that should be made in the home between the parents, and while it is nice to have support from extended family and friends you should never homeschool because an outside source tells you to.
Growing up homeschooled
I grew up in the late 80’s and early 90’s when homeschooling was fairly unheard of. When we told someone that we homeschooled they generally looked at us like we had a second head or a third arm. Still somehow we survived home schooling. What is more we thrived. My brother went on to be a successful engineer, my sister is a book keeper, and I am a blogger/writer. My sister sent her only child to public school, my brother who had his first child this year plans on homeschooling, and like him I am homeschooling my three children. Not all children who homeschooled will choose that path for their children, and not all parents who currently consider homeschooling or who homeschool grew up in a homeschooling family.
So Why Should You Homeschool?
There is a myriad of reasons why a family chooses to homeschool. Some families choose homeschooling for religious reasons, however not all homeschoolers are Christians. We choose homeschooling for several reasons.
• Disagreeing with current education standards
• Desiring to spend more time with my children
• Children can work at their own pace
• The Student to teacher ratio in public schools in my area are 30:1 homeschool for us is 3:1
• Instilling a lifelong love of learning.
The list of reasons could fill an entire blog. Each family has different reasons, and some of those reasons overlap. Most common reasons include:
• Religious Reasons
• Health Reasons
• Educations Standards
• Freedom and Control.
Let’s talk about the last reason for just a moment. A lot of homeschool parents cite wanting the freedom to teach their children what they want them to learn and the control over the education information. In other words, parents want to make sure that they have the freedom to teach their children while controlling information that they deem as dangerous. For people who do not homeschool or who have misinformation about homeschooling this notion can be a little confusing. It could seem like parents are trying to manipulate what their children know. However, most homeschool children develop a deep love of learning, which surpasses their parents control, as homeschool children mature and their love for learning deepens they grow beyond any manipulation that their parents might have. It is true that homeschool children tend to have closer relationships with their parents, and that is not a bad thing.
Should you homeschool?
That is something only you and your spouse can answer. You can write down your reasons why, and discuss them but ultimately the decision is going to have to be yours. I will close with this, once you decided to homeschool you should stick with that decision. The same concept is applied to public school also. Children need stability in their lives, and so if you think that public school is best that is something that you should do consistently, if you believe that homeschool is best that is something that you should do consistently, do not put half the children in one and half in the other, and do not put your children in public school for one year, homeschool the next, then send them back to public school the following year, give them stability in their education. That isn’t to say that public school students should never be homeschooled or homeschool students absolutely should never go to public school but rather a yo-yo effect will do a lot more harm than good.

Resident vs. Certified, Choosing a Doctor

Pregnancy-MassageMy friend is pregnant and she asked me the other day which hospital she should deliver at. I felt honored as I explained what I liked about our two local hospitals. My oldest was born at one hospital and my other two at the other hospital. Then the topic changed to one that was near and dear to my heart.

“Hospital A has residents and Hospital B has certified,” she said quite proud to know this. “That’s right,” I responded. Then, “I don’t think I would have a resident deliver my baby.” My heart dropped. It was a resident that delivered my youngest two.

When I found out that I was pregnant the first time I was absolutely over joyed. We weren’t married yet but we were planning on it. We discussed moving the wedding up. Then the worst happened, we lost the baby. Things spiraled out of control and we split up. About two years later I met the father of my children. We dated a short while before finding out that we were expecting. Thrown into parenthood we ended up living at my parents for a short while, and when my oldest was born he was premature. He spent the first week of his life in the NICU and came home on a breathing monitor.

So when a couple years later we found out we were expecting again I was all kinds of nervous. We saw a local doctor for the first five months when they found a problem. I was carrying to much water. We went to see a specialist at the local hospital and decided that since the hospital we were scheduled to deliver at didn’t have a NICU we would change providers. Since I would have to see the high risk doctor through the bigger hospital we decided to not pick another provider and whoever was on call would deliver the baby.

When our son was born almost a week late at the end of July a Resident, second year medical student would be the one to deliver. Delivery went so smooth and the baby and I went home two days later. Only seven months later I was expecting again. I asked the resident if she  would be our doctor and deliver our third baby. There was something about her that made me feel comfortable. She took care of me and the baby and the whole family for the rest of her time in residency and we were all heartbroken when she moved on.

How could I possibly explain this to my friend though? What words could I use to reassure her that a resident could be just as qualified as a certified doctor. They don’t do it alone. There was always another doctor in the delivery room. Would I have been open minded enough with my first baby to listen to someone? Probably, I took a lot of bad advice with my pregnancy. People told me to fear doctors and I did. They told me that Doctors didn’t have my best interest at heart. They scared me into believing that Pitocin was the worst thing ever, and that I should be cautious of any advice my doctor gave me.

I don’t know whether I can convince my friend that Residents are just as good at delivering as Certified Doctors. Here is what I will say to her and to any of you out there reading this, go with your gut. Ask a lot of questions constantly and remember up to the moment the baby is delivered you can ask for someone else if your doctor is making you feel uncomfortable. Take the advice and counsel of Doctors over anything you read on the internet, including my blog. I didn’t spend any time in Medical school, I didn’t go through residency, I don’t know the first thing about delivery other then what I went through with my own children and so my telling you what you need to do with your delivery shouldn’t supersede what a medical professional tells you.

I was happy with my Resident doctor delivering my two youngest and I told her that if she settled down and started a practice in my area I would continue to use her as our family doctor because I trust her decisions and advice. When it comes to your children and family you need to trust your family doctor and if you do not trust your doctor find one that you do trust.

A Second Generation Home School Family

As a mother of three children, this will be my second experience with homeschooling. First as a student in the 90’s, when it was less than popular. And now teaching my children in 2015, when it seems like just about everyone I meet either home-schools or knows someone who is thinking about it. Now that I am a teacher and preparing three children to go on the wonderous journey of homeschool I wonder if I didn’t somehow luck out.
When I grew up, we were shunned. Homeschool students were made fun of, looked down on by society on a large scale. In Colorado, we had to see a psychologist, this was done in part to determine if homeschool was harming us in any way. I don’t know if the same laws still apply in Colorado. My mom and the moms of the 80’s and 90’s paved the way to make homeschool normal.
You could say that homeschool is in my blood. Except my sister who never homeschooled tried it with her kids before life interfered, and she had to go back to work full time. My other sister who was homeschooled also experienced life’s general interference and therefore never tried it with her daughter. Three of mom’s five children were homeschooled. She didn’t even know it was an option when her older two were school age.
We were ridiculed by people who clearly had no clue how homeschool worked. “What about socialization?” Give me a break we had a ton of friends. My brother excelled at track and football, my sister was a champion at showing horses, she also raised rabbits. We had a garden and the stand to sell our vegetables; we were quintessential “Little House on the Prairie”.
What about me, well I am glad you asked. At sixteen, I got tired of homeschool and decided to try my hand at college. I was in for a rude awakening. The deceit and backstabbing were new to me; I had no idea that someone would lie and try to get you kicked out of school just to have a private dorm room. The school was less than helpful. Well no, that is not completely true I had a pretty good idea that people were horrible I just wasn’t expecting the amount of terror that adult girls would put another young girl through. The admissions rep was awesome. He did everything in his power to make things right for me; the lady in charge of housing was another story altogether. Perhaps homeschool made me willing to stand on my own two feet; it gave me the courage to stand back up after being knocked down. Shortly before my 18th’s birthday during my sophomore year at college I transferred schools.
The new school was okay, but I had lost my focus. At 20, I dropped out of school altogether just one semester shy of my Bachelors in Criminal Justice. I met a man, fell in love and got married. Our son was born, and I started thinking about my life so far. I guess I didn’t want him to be disappointed in his old mama, so I went back to school, changed majors to English and walked in my graduation at 29.
I am not your typical homeschool story though. I like to think that most homeschool students who go to college are not met with the kind of deceit I was, and most don’t drop out.
My brother graduated with highest honors. He was the first student to graduate with all A’s from his program with a degree in AutoCAD. He works for a nice company now as project manager. We all take different paths in life, homeschool students, for the most part, are no different from our public school counterparts. We have the same interests and ambitions, what differs is our learning atmosphere. My good friends send their children to public school; they are smart, sweet, and successful. My good friends also homeschool their children, and they are just as smart sweet and successful. The choices that we make as mom’s, what is best for our family, is simply for our family. I would never tell another Mom that they had to homeschool or not, or that they had to vaccinate or not. We should respect each others choices when it comes to our families. Sure I can quote statistics on homeschool, how students excel, but the research is out there if you are interested. What I hope instead is that I presented a story of a second generation homeschool family that is just trying to figure things out as they go.

From great sorrow, I have brought great joy.

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November 17th, 2004 started normally as any other day had for me. Then when I was walking through my dining room to my living room I felt a funny sensation and realized that I was bleeding. I quickly woke my then fiance, and we rushed to the hospital. I was only seven weeks pregnant. The words “threatened abortion” were used so callously by doctors and nurses, exam after exam yielded the same results. Seven weeks pregnant with a strong heart beat. “Go home,” they said and hopefully the bleeding will stop. Early on the morning of November 18th I was back at the hospital. The doctor, my doctor at the time came in, he told me that I had an ectopic pregnancy. He explained that the baby, or in is terms the fetus, implanted in my cervix and that there was nothing that he could do. My only hope was to go through surgery to remove the baby (fetus). My baby was still alive. I was heart broken and crushed. Never in my life would I have agreed to an abortion. The doctor explained under no uncertain terms that my blood pressure was dropping. I was dying and before they let me bleed to death they would remove the baby whether I consented to treatment or if they had to wait and perform life-saving measures. He also warned that if it came to that they might not be able to save my uterus and I may never have children again. I was twenty years old. All I ever wanted was a big family. I agreed to treatment knowing that as I went into the surgery the baby whose heartbeat inside me would soon no more. There would be nothing left by tears.
The surgery took a lot longer than the doctor expected. There were serious complications. He had to keep giving me transfusions. They were finally able to stop the bleeding. I didn’t have to have a hysterectomy. I didn’t lose my uterus, though, at the time, I felt like I had lost everything.
I might have only been seven weeks along, but I coped by naming my baby. I had to put a name to the baby that I lost because it was the only way I could deal with my grief. At seven weeks there is no way to know, at least not yet, whether the baby would be a boy or a girl. I imagined she would be a girl. I named her Bethany Anne. I am not sure why I picked out that name it just seemed right. I didn’t like to refer to her as the baby that I lost. I needed to give that baby a name, even if I had only been carrying her for seven weeks.

Part of losing a baby at any point in the development is that the mother goes through the grieving process. Dad’s do too, but this story my story is about how a mom grieves for her child. I did not know at the time that a miscarriage of an ectopic pregnancy in my case would mean grieving as though I had lost a child. I did not know at the time that the child I had lost was as much a part of me as any of my children are. I knew I was sad. I blamed myself and doubted my bodies ability to carry a baby. I went through all of the stages of grief and did so alone because I didn’t know that I could talk to people about what I was going through. My then fiance was no help. He didn’t understand what I was going through; he couldn’t fathom why I was so upset over a baby that we had barely acknowledged. We knew we were pregnant when we went into the hospital, and we knew when I went home that the pregnancy was no more. He didn’t understand what I was going through and quite frankly neither did I. Our relationship ended shortly after that. A series of fights gave way to his leaving, and later conversations revealed that he didn’t like the new depressed me. I had no one to talk to, and so I didn’t know until later that I was grieving. I couldn’t explain to him. I didn’t know how to explain it to anyone else. I had lost a grandmother when I was twelve but other than that I had not been touched by grief. I had no idea what the process as all about. They say that the death of a child is one of the most difficult things a couple can go through, and most relationships do not make it.

That is not to say that the grieving process has a set time limit. I do not believe that. I do now fully believe that grief occurs in stages. I also believe that we go through these different stages, not in any particular order. That when we finish the depression stage and move into the next stage, it is not necessarily finished. As we can move from bargaining to depression to acceptance right back to depression and then through bargaining again. I went through all of these stages for over two years then something happened.
September 2006

I moved, and I met an amazing man. He changed my life, before that I thought that I would be alone forever the mother of a dead baby. We dated for a short while before we found out I was pregnant again and on November 1st 2007 our son was born premature. He weighed just five pounds and nine ounces and had to spend time in the NICU. He was born with sleep apnea and came home on a machine that alarmed if he stopped breathing. It alarmed twice. After everything that happened I still thought of him as a miracle. My miracle baby just turned seven.

While it is true that our fairy tale romance had it’s problems. We were separated. We had a lot of issues. We got over those issues and were married on July 2nd 2011. It was on July 31st 2012 I gave birth to another son that was born healthy although he was a week late. He is light and sunshine the cutest sweetest little man that I have ever met (takes after his older brother that way).

Last November I was due to have my third child a daughter on November 10th. The due date came and went without her arrival. My doctor said that they would schedule an induction and that the only time that we could do it was on November 18th. With a heavy heart I weighed asking her to wait, just one day or two. I couldn’t possibly go into the hospital and have a baby on the anniversary of the day I lost my first child. I asked so many people what they thought I should do and then finally I kept quiet. I didn’t say anything and on November 17th, 2013 just nine years after I lost my first baby I went into the hospital to be induced.
My daughter was born healthy, sweet and perfect on November 18th. It was only after she was born I told the doctor what happened. I told her that there was something, perhaps even God, that propelled me into staying quiet. I felt that perhaps he was saying after nine years of grieving let me give you a reason to celebrate. You lost your baby but from that loss I have given you a wonderful man and three perfectly wonderful children. From great sorrow, I have brought great joy.