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 about death from such a tender, innocent age. That they'll hold their brother and wonder why he isn't moving, why he's cold. Why he doesn't cry. Why he won't be coming home.
People ask how we are able to get up each and every day, and the truth is it's because we don't take ourselves to these thoughts very often. We know what's coming, but we don't sit and dwell in the pit of sadness each day. We can't. The time will come for tears to fall, but for right now there are moments where we forget.
It's weird, but I do forget I'm pregnant sometimes. We do all the normal family things, keeping a fairly regular routine. We're always tired though. My mind forgets, but my body doesn't. It carries not only the physical signs and symptoms of growing a baby, but the heavy emotional blanket that I'm not always conscious of. It hurts all the time, mostly manifesting as exhaustion. The kids are stir crazy because it's March and still snowing, and all we do right now is this:
Those who know me well know that I've never been someone who naps. I've never really had a huge love for sleep (honestly I wish I didn't have to), but these days I sleep a bit each day. I take regular 3 hour naps when time (and the kiddos) allow. I sleep 8-10 hours a night. Sleep-deprived mommas, I'm sorry, but this is awful. I hate sleeping this much, but my brain and body just won't carry me as far as I want to right now.
And each day that I lay in bed with these two sweet babies, I grieve not only another day of carrying Gabriel, but another day of "missing out" on the babyhood of the two I have here with me. I count Edward's fingers and toes over and over, and kiss them one by one. I snuggle Mira and listen to her stories, knowing one day she will outgrow my lap. Every momma goes through the struggle of her babies growing up...but I was supposed to do this at least one more time.
All of Edward's firsts were my last firsts. Another layer of grief I wasn't quite prepared for. And like I said...it's normal to be sad your babies are growing up.
But it's different when two never will.
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 about death from such a tender, innocent age. That they'll hold their brother and wonder why he isn't moving, why he's cold. Why he doesn't cry. Why he won't be coming home.
People ask how we are able to get up each and every day, and the truth is it's because we don't take ourselves to these thoughts very often. We know what's coming, but we don't sit and dwell in the pit of sadness each day. We can't. The time will come for tears to fall, but for right now there are moments where we forget.
It's weird, but I do forget I'm pregnant sometimes. We do all the normal family things, keeping a fairly regular routine. We're always tired though. My mind forgets, but my body doesn't. It carries not only the physical signs and symptoms of growing a baby, but the heavy emotional blanket that I'm not always conscious of. It hurts all the time, mostly manifesting as exhaustion. The kids are stir crazy because it's March and still snowing, and all we do right now is this:
Those who know me well know that I've never been someone who naps. I've never really had a huge love for sleep (honestly I wish I didn't have to), but these days I sleep a bit each day. I take regular 3 hour naps when time (and the kiddos) allow. I sleep 8-10 hours a night. Sleep-deprived mommas, I'm sorry, but this is awful. I hate sleeping this much, but my brain and body just won't carry me as far as I want to right now.
And each day that I lay in bed with these two sweet babies, I grieve not only another day of carrying Gabriel, but another day of "missing out" on the babyhood of the two I have here with me. I count Edward's fingers and toes over and over, and kiss them one by one. I snuggle Mira and listen to her stories, knowing one day she will outgrow my lap. Every momma goes through the struggle of her babies growing up...but I was supposed to do this at least one more time.
All of Edward's firsts were my last firsts. Another layer of grief I wasn't quite prepared for. And like I said...it's normal to be sad your babies are growing up.
But it's different when two never will.
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| 26 weeks |
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