Kaila Mugford

I've been describing our last week or so as "normal." No real updates on Gabriel, a regular school schedule with the kids... But we aren't normal. I've never had that in my motherhood journey. This cycle of grief has taken me back to anger in the last couple days. I'll tell you what triggers the anger more than anything- getting sick. Jamey and I were both hit with a stomach virus yesterday, and all I could think was Why? Why right now? Why can't we put all this crap on hold until...after?? It's true, there is no real "good time" to be sick. But every time I had to jump off the couch and run to the bathroom yesterday, the first thought that ran through my head was, AND Gabriel's going to die soon you know.  It's a weird thought to have. It doesn't make sense to even me. But all I feel in these moments is anger. Anger that my house smells like vomit AND my baby is dying. Anger that my kids need a million and ...

We finally have a diagnosis for Gabriel. It's a little difficult to believe that we do, especially after all these years of hearing and telling everyone, "We don't know, we have no answers." After Sam, we were confident in trying to have more children after being told all of his genetic test results were normal. They told us we would never truly know if we were genetic carriers for something unless we had another sick baby. Well...after Gabriel's first ultrasound, we knew we were carriers. But for what? That's been the question that's plagued us for the last 2 months. Normal test after normal test, and we were starting to lose hope of EVER knowing. I was beginning to have fears of having future grandchildren. What. Could. This. Be? The pattern this diagnosis for our boys follows tells us several things, and I hope I'm able to explain this well: 1) This is an autosomal recessive disease. This means that we have a 1 in 4 chance every single ...

26 weeks today. Tomorrow we will have had Gabriel's diagnosis for 8 weeks. 56 days of going to bed wishing this were some horrible dream, and waking up realizing it's not. 1,344 hours of knowing while watching my belly grow. He kicks now. They're faint, nothing even Jamey can feel yet. But they're there, these tiny kicks from our little boy. I think he spent some time rolling and turning last night, as I felt my belly get hard in one spot and then soften, over and over. "Mommy, I want to talk to the baby," Mira will say some mornings, laying her head on my belly. "He can't talk yet, he's still growing. That's my baby brother Gabriel." Her love for here newest little brother is so sweet, so innocent. She knows he's going to Heaven. But she focuses on his growth here. I love her focus. And I hate that he can't stay. My heart aches not only for me, Jamey, and our families, but for her. For Edward. That they'll learn a...

I started praying two days ago. Like...really praying (for me, anyway). I've mentioned before my struggle to pray these last couple of months. Can you believe it's been nearly two  months since Gabriel's diagnosis? I can't. So, two days ago I sat down. I wrote out my prayers. I wrote out Scripture. And I sat across from a couple of pillows on the couch. Okay, God. I'm here. I don't really want to be here or know what I'm doing. Honestly I feel like a fool looking at these pillows as I pray. But I need you, so here it goes.  I prayed for a good 15 minutes (and yes, that amount of time feels like forever to me). I praised God. I repented. And I begged. I need you to heal Gabriel more than anything. Heal his entire body. Only you can. God, I honored you with Sam's life, and he died. And I will honor you if Gabriel dies...but please don't let it be so. Let me keep him. Let me rock him and kiss him and love him forever until it's my time to leav...