Kaila Mugford

I've been quiet here lately, but that's a good thing right now. Life is moving much faster than I'd like it to, but that's just how life goes, right? Especially chasing after 2 littles. We've had a good week and a half. I had my 6 week postpartum checkup last night, and my blood pressure is still high but other than that, I have healed well from surgery. I'll be following up with my primary about the blood pressure but my OB is hoping it's just the tail end of the postpartum period and will return to normal soon. I had not seen my OB since Gabriel's diagnosis. She had a major heart attack just 3 weeks after we got our news, and this was the first time I had seen her since she returned. The first thing she did when she saw me was ask for a hug and apologized for missing my entire pregnancy. Gosh I'm so glad you're okay, I'd told her. I'm glad you are too, I'm so sorry about your son, she replied. She sat and looked at several pic

If you've been following along with me for a little while, you'd know that my next post about Gabriel's life is about his birth. Meeting him for the first time, holding him as he slowly slipped away. I've already written about the time leading up to that  here  and  here . The truth is, I'm afraid. I'm afraid that once I write his story, it'll be over. That's all I'll ever have to say about my son. No new updates, no new pictures. I remember when it was 'over' for Sam. I shared my last picture ever of my boy, and that was it. Sharing your baby's last picture is hard. I have many many pictures of Gabriel, and I'm well aware that I don't have  to share them. I want to though. Just like I share pictures of our other babies, I want to share Gabriel's life. Each time I post one however, it's one new photo for the world to see, and one less photo of the limited collection I have to post of my beautiful boy. I'm not e

One month in Heaven. Sweet baby boy, I miss you so. I can't say happy one month , because it's been anything but happy for me. We have so few memories, but those we do have...I miss everything about you. I miss that little left leg that went from kicking me on the inside to kicking the air over on that table. I miss those little dark eyebrows that shot straight up when you tried to open your eyes. I miss the little man nose that you and your brothers all share. I miss the sweet little smile we first saw via ultrasound, and then again when Daddy tickled your foot in the OR. I miss your tiny fingers, your tiny toes, your black hair, and your sweet little lips. I kissed you over and over and over. I whispered to you it was okay to go. It wasn't okay. Not at all. But that wasn't either of our choice. I miss changing your outfit and putting on your little hat. I miss that tiny polka dot diaper secured with a safety pin. I miss showing you off to the fri

6 years ago I celebrated Mother's Day with no baby in my arms. Sam had died 2 weeks before. The year after that, I was pregnant with Mira and still had no baby to hold. The year after, Mira gave me the gift of the stomach flu. ;) The last few years have been fairly "normal" with the exception that one of my children was not there. And this year, I will celebrate with half of my children. There is nothing easy about this. One thing I grieve is I will never have all of my children in one picture. I asked the photographer to take one with Mira and Edward when they came to visit us at the hospital. I'd said, I don't care if it's crazy or no one is looking. I just want one with us as a family of 5. That's what we have. One picture of the 5 of us. One. We're a family of six, but out and about we look like four. We don't look like our hands are full with just the two. We don't know what it's like to juggle a baby carrier while chasing do

For the beginning of this story, click  here . When we arrived at the OB Emergency, I was wheeled into room 75. The place looked pretty empty, and I was glad for it. Just a few years before I had visited this hospital to deliver a newborn crochet set to a new momma I had gone to high school with. It felt odd to be back as a patient. I really thought they'd be running some tests and sending me home. I was hooked up to a blood pressure monitor, labs were drawn, urine sample taken (again). That blood pressure cuff was so uncomfortable and inflated every 15 minutes. Every single time my blood pressure registered high. Every time the nurse had to come in and shut off the annoying beep. Hi Kaila, we'd like to introduce you to Dr. Townsend. Can you tell her what's going on? I don't even remember exactly what I told her, other than I CANNOT get stuck here. We just cannot deliver here. I have a whole team up at Rush Copley. They know what I need, we've been plannin

I have to share some things that are going to make some people uncomfortable. I'm okay with that, but I know it's not going to be easy to read because you might want to try to fix me. You can't. You can't "fix" these feelings. You can't pray them away. You can't tell me to "just trust God" and go on with your day. Well, I guess you  can. But I can't. I am not in a good place. I am not okay. I don't even want to be okay at this point. I tell Jamey almost every night that I want to go back to the hospital. I want to lay in that bed. I want to kiss and cuddle my son. I want to stroke his cheeks. I don't care if they're cold. I don't care if he'll never open his eyes again. I just want to go back there and rock him in my arms. I took pictures of the bruises on my arms and hands from being in the hospital. There are so few memories of my son, that I didn't even want to forget that part. My blood pressure w

I'm sitting here and I'm just staring. I don't even know where to start. Where? Gabriel's birth? My feelings now? Everything in between? 3 weeks ago I was still in the middle of processing his diagnosis. I was still planning his birth. I was still working on coordinating our calendar to see genetic counselors and neonatologists. I had to cancel those appointments the week after he was born. I guess we don't really need to see all of you anymore. We still will see a genetic counselor soon. We have many questions that need answered. Tests that need run. Fears still to face. This isn't over. Much of this has really only just begun. All the while processing a grief that runs deeper than I could have ever imagined. I hate to write this as a to be continued  kind of thing, but there is SO much to tell. So many wonderful things about Gabriel's birth. And so many awful, horrible things. I don't even know if I'll be able to put words to some of what