I hate this.

I wish I could make this pretty. I wish I could say all I feel is peace and gratitude for all the good in my life right now.

But I'd be lying.

There are some peaceful moments, yes. And I do feel immense gratitude to those who have come alongside us in support and in love to help us through.

But I mostly freaking hate this.

My sweet fixer husband, he regularly asks me, "What can I do to help you right now?"

Nothing. There's nothing you can do. Unless you can find a way to help me leave my body, find a way to not be me today, there's absolutely nothing. Stop asking, please. The only thing I want is unfixable, unsolvable. There is only One who can solve this, and He didn't fix it the way I wanted to last time.

Oh, I know how I sound. I can throw myself an excellent pity party. And you know what? I'm okay with that. I don't stay there forever, and the party is just as fun as it sounds, but I sometimes do it anyway.

Jamey are I have been kid-free this weekend. They needed some time away from us, and us from them. Unfortunately things that were normal before have become sources of horrible anxiety right now. They're just over 2 hours away and while they were in the car I prayed please don't let anything happen to them. I cannot take another one of my babies gone. I cried in therapy while Jamey drove them to their destination, and didn't quite breathe again until everyone was safely home.

When one child dies, you don't really think about statistics. Death is your reality. When it looms for a second child, it takes an enormous emotional effort to not take the ones you have left and hide away forever. I have been able to laugh, talk, and play, but I go to bed and wake up drained, no matter how many hours of sleep I get. How are you feeling today? Tired. Just tired. 

We went in for a second 4D ultrasound on Wednesday and brought the kids with us. The owner of the imaging studio has insisted that we come in when we need to in order to make as many sweet memories with Gabriel as we're able. She has been an incredible gift to us, and her generosity has brought many happy tears. Our babies got to see Gabriel on the screen as well as listen to his heartbeat. "It's too loud," Mira said at first, holding her hands over her ears. But by the end of the session, she kept asking over and over, "Can we hear baby's heartbeat again?" Even Edward climbed up onto the chair next to me and said, "Wowwww." We spent the next 30 minutes watching Gabriel suck his hands, cover his face, and even yawn. 

I am grateful for these special memories....but gosh I'm mad. And sad. And everything in between.

This may be the only time our babies get to see their little brother alive. There is no good way to express just how much that hurts this momma heart. For me, for Jamey, for all of my babies.

Mira and Edward walked away from the imaging studio with heartbeat stuffed animals in their arms. They will get to hear Gabriel's heartbeat anytime they want to. My rainbow baby Mira chose a rainbow teddy, and cried when I told her she couldn't take it to school. "But I want my teachers to hear baby's heart Mommy." 

And then when she came home from school that day, "Mommy, I need to see all da pitchers of da baby. Are dese pitchers for me? Awww." My heart both swells and breaks watching her in her big sister role to a new baby. She's so excited at the promise of a framed ultrasound picture next to her bed. 

This. Is. Awful.