Kaila Mugford

The weight feels unusually heavy today. Sunday blues maybe. Lifetime grief. Missing my boys. My little Peter Pans who will never grow up. Sometimes I close my eyes and try to imagine them, but I just can't see it. Can't see 3 little boys and our girl bouncing around our townhouse. Driving us crazy. ;) I don't have to always close my eyes to imagine anymore though. With the gift of one image. I can see it. See them. All six of us. Thank you, Laura Mullen, for not only gifting us the most beautiful images of Gabriel on his birthday, but now also creating this stunning composite. We are so very grateful. 

One year ago I turned 30. Such a big year. So much behind us. So much ahead of us. We found out on October 13th 2017 that we were pregnant with our 4th baby. I created a sweet little announcement. My heart pounded with excitement as I posted that picture and typed out our news. I called Gabriel "my favorite birthday gift." And it was true. I felt like we were in the clear. That grief wouldn't touch us again in such a deep way. At least not so soon. It all looked so perfect. I didn't know that little yellow pumpkin would be in our home one year later. And he would be missing. This day last year, I had dreams of what our family raising 3 kids would look like. This day this year my 5 year old turned in an assignment for Dia de los Muertos where she wrote about her two brothers in Heaven. My 30th year didn't turn out anything like I thought it would. Today? It has been such a good birthday. I am so very loved. But my boys. They'

I feel like I can't even write right now, but my fingers hover over the keyboard and I just need  something  to come out of them. I feel like I'm carrying a lead weight today. No, nothing's happened lately. Nothing bad, nothing sad. I actually have lots of good, exciting, new things going on in my life. Some I've shared, some I haven't. But I feel like I've been in a knock-down drag-out fight today.  Most days I can push through these feelings. Gosh, I just don't know how you do it,  I hear so often. And the truth is, I don't want to do it . I don't want to get out of bed. I want to stay under the blankets. Warm. Cozy.  And forget. I want to forget all the awful things of this world. I want to forget the loss, the pain, the struggles. I want to wrap my arms around Jamey, Mira, and Edward, and just hold them forever.  Sometimes this pain is just too heavy. And I think, God, I'm only 30. I can't take much more of thi

I haven't been here in a little while. Much of that has to do with the busyness that comes with two kids in school and getting into a new routine...and at the same time, it has nothing to do with that. I haven't wanted to write. Last night, I wrote my monthly piece for Still Standing Magazine. I waited until the very last minute to write it (it's due 2 weeks before it's published online), and last night it needed to be done. This is the first time I've really put this off. This is the first time I've avoided the feelings that come when I put my pain into words. This is the first time I was bitter about writing. I came downstairs after about an hour of typing. I hit "save draft" and sent a message to my editor that it was done but it was bad. I felt so irritated. With myself for procrastinating, with my kids for being loud while I was trying to think...but mostly I was bitter about my topic. I never wanted to write about dead babies. I sat a

I had to Google the stages of grief last night. I couldn't remember what they all were and I prefer not to know too much about "stages" because then I'll have expectations about what I should  be doing. I needed to look them up though, because I was searching for one in particular. Bargaining. On the first site I clicked on, it says this, " Guilt often accompanies bargaining. We start to believe there was something we could have done differently to have helped save our loved one." (Taken from  h ttps://psychcentral.com/lib/the-5-stages-of-loss-and-grief/). Guilt. Overwhelming. Crushing. Guilt. Everything I do right now comes in a nice guilt-wrapped package. Two of my children are gone, and it doesn't seem to matter that even though I *know* there was nothing I could do...it feels like I failed them somehow. That I don't measure up as a mother. That I didn't deserve them and they're gone because God knew I couldn't handle just on

It's quiet tonight. Everyone in my house is asleep. Tomorrow morning the quiet will be broken by the sound of 4 little feet coming down the stairs. I'll hear, "Mommeee? Where Dahee?" from my baby boy. He'll be 3 on Wednesday. I don't wish I could freeze time. I know what frozen time looks like, and it's awful. I will celebrate every single milestone, every single birthday, and I will smile...because the alternative is a nightmare. Just like so many parents out there right now though, I am ready for my kiddos to head to school. They've been bored with me for quite awhile now ;) and we are ready to get back into a routine. But on August 15th... My sweet 5 year old starts kindergarten. My spunky boy turns 3. And my tiny baby will be celebrating 4 months in Heaven. That's a lot in one day for a momma heart. I'm terrified, and excited. Nervous, and anticipatory. My hormones have been all over the place ever since Gabriel's

I don't even know how to start this. I wrote an entire blog post just moments ago and hit save instead of publish, because while I had intended to write about test results, I wrote about upcoming milestones and my momma heart. Maybe I will post that one in the next couple of days, but I realize more and more that I simply have not been wanting to write about "the end." The answers we've been waiting for. The answers we weren't sure we'd ever get. If you've read my previous posts, we have had multiple genetic tests run on both Sam and Gabriel. None of them had come back with answers after Sam died and so we were told to try again. We would only ever really know if we were genetic carriers for a disease if we had another sick baby.  We've had 4 pregnancies. And we've never truly gotten to experience the joy and excitement that comes with that 20 week ultrasound. "Boy" or "girl" has never been the most anticipatory p

"Think about it. If you know just one person in Mexico or the Philippines or Bolivia or Lichtenstein and something happens in one of those countries, don't you feel a kinship with everyone there? It feels like we've met everybody in those countries even though, obviously, we haven't yet. I bet this is what Jesus meant when He told His friends that people would understand who He was by watching how we treated each other. Early on I thought big acts of generosity or great sermons or arenas full of people singing songs would help us understand God's love for us. He said it was none of these. Jesus told His friends that letting people see the way we love each other would be the best way to let people know about Him.  It wouldn't be because we'd given them a lot of directions or instructions or because they memorized or studied all the right things. It would be because someone met you or me and felt as if they'd just met Jesus. I think what He meant was He

For links to the previous posts, click  here . We are back in room 75. My Dad and sister are sitting on the couch...it seems almost like they're afraid to get up and come see, but I know they're giving me some space. There's a lot of shuffling and adjusting wires. I just sit and stare in awe of this tiny boy in my arms. I keep asking to have his heart checked. He's still here, honey. Each time. I am joyful that he is here with us still, but I bring him close to me, cheek to cheek, and I whisper to him: It's okay to go sweet baby. I love you. My heart aches for more time with him. But it aches more that he's alive and not breathing. At one point, I ask if anyone would like to hold him, and he goes around the room, being loved on by everyone there. I remember taking a photo of Jamey kissing him. I'm only able to capture a shot of the top of his head, but the photographer has a better angle. He is placed back in my arms within min

I am not okay today. I opened up my blog to start a new post. Was my 'joy.' post really just one week ago? Today's the opposite. If you're looking for some encouragement or something light-hearted today...I would suggest not reading any further. Today I am set off. I just...cannot. Nothing is safe for me right now. Not my mailbox. Not my bank account. Not my phone. Last night, I checked my account and I saw a check that had been debited. I clicked on the image. "Pay to the order of: Illinois Dept. of Public Health". YES!! I was so excited last night. Jamey, his birth certificate is coming. You know, the one I put in a special request for? I was having an emotionally rough evening but checking that brought some joy. It should be in the mail any day now. Let me back up a minute. Two days after we were released from the hospital, we went to the Department of Public records to request a copy of Gabriel's birth certificate. When your bab

joy. I scrolled right on past the post the first time I saw it. Several friends shared the video made by For King and Country this last week.  I love their music but I'm not feeling too much of that right now. I don't know how many times I scrolled past, but when I finally hit play, the song did not disappoint. Last Tuesday I confided in my therapist that I am not finding joy in much of anything. I'm going through the motions, forcing myself to get up and just 'do' whether I feel it or not. I told her that so much of my energy goes into just getting out of bed that I am tired much of the day and fall asleep right away when my head hits the pillow at night. Grief is exhausting. And quite frankly, I'm tired of it. Tired of being tired. Tired of not feeling the feelings I used to feel. I started to get very discouraged last week, especially on Gabriel's due date. We are having some troubles with insurance covering some of the testing we had done and I'

I design and buy a Shutterfly calendar every year with pictures of the kids. This year as soon as our calendar arrived, I wrote this.  I've been staring at these words since the page flipped from May to June. Talking with friends last night, I'd said, I just wish I could go back to "before." I wish I could go back and be HER again. The woman who felt joy. Who didn't see it coming. I'm tired of being broken over and over.  Everything is a reminder. The beginning of my 2018 journal hurts... Jan 1, 2018 Milestones in 2017:  Mira turned 4 Edward turned 2 I turned 30 Expecting baby #4! Student loan debt FREE Milestones to come: Mira turning 5 Edward tuning 3 New baby in June Debt FREE Jan 5, 2018 In just 12 days we will find out the health status of our newest baby Mugford. Time seems to have flown by for me already.  I started a journal for Gabriel that same day. Daddy and I are so excited to have you join

"Tell me, what is the biggest difference between your grief journey with Sam and now with Gabriel?" My therapist asked me this question last week. I sat in silence. I think it's having Mira and Edward now...is it? Maybe it's not. "It's my relationship with God." When we had Sam, I couldn't wait to get out and share our story with the world. About how God had given us so much peace. How he had been there with us in the storm. How we didn't know how people could survive this much pain without him. And now... Now. I don't know. I really don't know. I wish I could say I still felt that way. I wish I could say I feel his presence strongly with me. I wish I could say I know that he is good and his plan is perfect, and that I know without a doubt he will redeem this great loss for the second time. I envy 6 year ago me who was so sure of those things. God gave his one and only son for me. That brought me so much comfort. L

For previous posts, click  here  and  here . Beep....beep....beep..... I can hear all the machines chiming away as doctors begin my c-section. This isn't my first section so I know it will only be a matter of minutes before Gabriel will be out. I stare at the little baby warmer as I hear the doctors talking. I can't help but think that just the day before I had said, I'm just really tired. I want this to be over.  No I didn't. I didn't want this. I wanted this to be a beginning...not over. I wanted to bring him home...not have an emergency c-section that would save my life. This is not what I meant. "Baby's out," I hear one of the doctors. My biggest prayer when I was pregnant with Sam was just that we would hear him cry. God, just let me hear his little baby cry. That's not too much to ask, is it?  Doctors had told me multiple times it would be unlikely given how immature his lungs would be. But the minute Sam was in the baby warmer an