Where there is darkness, only light and where there's sadness, ever joy.

I gave up on religion a long time ago.

I know it raises eyebrows to so openly declare oneself an agnostic heathen, but well... Here I am world, in all my glory!

But after the 9 years of Catholic school (and a nice handful of years after that spent sporadically attending church) I still find many of the traditions of the church comforting. Hence, why I think as we hit the anniversary of saying goodbye to our baby Jude (yet another contradiction, naming her after the patron saint of lost causes), I found myself humming the prayer of St. Francis today.

Make me a channel of your peace.
Where there's despair in life, let me bring hope.
Where there is darkness, only light.
And where there's sadness, ever joy.

But unfortunately (and not surprisingly) there's been some despair, darkness, and sadness in our house lately.

The anniversary has brought every memory--good and bad--rushing back to us. And while today is better/a little more peaceful than the past two days have been, we're still just muddling through it, side by side.

I had my meltdown Wednesday night because Miss Lilly has apparently decided it's a good idea to go transverse instead of just your average stubborn breech. So I started to worry about the possibility that she may decide to stay in the one position that can't be fixed... and it made me so upset! I've already been forced to give everything up before--my baby, my dreams for her, the birth experience I'd always wanted... and here I still might not have it all. Honestly, it was the possibility of getting do things "my way" next time that carried me through my first labor & delivery experience. This was supposed to be my reward.

Which got me thinking about Jude's birth... I've tried to reread her birth story a few times this week, but I just can't get through it. It's like reading my own words makes the experience too real to me again. Every time I read some nuance that I had forgotten about, it just breaks my heart all over.

So then the tears came--ugly, helpless tears that lasted for hours. I went through all of the cards we received, reread my pregnancy journal, looked at her photos, held her little dress and blanket, and just cried.

...grant that I may never seek
So much to be consoled as to console
To be understood as to understand
To be loved as to love with all my soul.

And speaking of love... My poor love is still so heartbroken over the loss of his little girl. I don't feel comfortable sharing the details of his grief here without his permission, but suffice it to say that he is still very hurt and misses her very much.

So last night we decided to go out on a date. The weather was beautiful so we went to one of our favorite patio restaurants and then the usual married couple voyage to Home Depot (romantic, yes?) It was nice to get out of the house, enjoy some fresh air (that's not 90 billion degrees) and just be together.

While we're not all of the way through this, I feel like we're headed in the right direction. I think we both felt a little more peaceful this morning and heading into the weekend, plan on just sticking together and licking our wounds a bit.

And if you're not familiar with the hymnal version of the Prayer of St. Francis, I'll post it here for you. I went ahead and picked a secular version of it, in an attempt to not offend with my heathen-ness.

For the love of god and everything holy--change your shirt, Charlie Brown!

So apparently I not only need to stop wearing the same outfit on every single Friday, I also owe you some klassy work bathroom photos and an update. ;-)

30w6d...


32w6d...


How far along? 32w6d

Stretch marks? Nope, none. Thank jeebus, genetics, and Burt's Bee's Mama Bee Belly Balm. But I'm sure they'll arrive eventually.

Sleep: My borrowed Hypnobabies CD's have me out like a light in about 5 minutes, but I keep waking up around 2-3 a.m. Oh well.

Best moment this week: Watching this little monster move around like she's trying to climb out through my belly button

Movement:

Food commentary: Mmm... Cherry Coke!

Labor Signs: None whatsoever.

Belly Button in or out? Each week it gets more and more shallow. I am not looking forward to the day that it pops like a turkey. That always grossed me out to see on people. Can I stuff it back in and close up shop with a Band-Aid or something?

What I miss: Sleeping on my back, like a flipped turtle.

What I am looking forward to: Shower #2 is tomorrow! WHOOHOO!

Weekly Wisdom: Friends don't admit to friends that they're waddling. Try as I might to fight it, the waddle is creeping in this week. And every time I start to, a little bit of the pageant girl inside me starts to die. ;-)

Weekly WTF: WTF carpet stores! Why are you soooo expensive and why does it take sooo long to order/install?!

Nesting madness: The nursery has WALLS and they look glorious! DH also primed the room, painted the ceiling, and installed the ceiling fan. Sure it's not as pretty as a chandelier, but it's more practical and can help prevent SIDS. Tonight we're painting the walls!

Milestones: We finished our Bradley birthing classes last night! WHOOHOO!

The simplest terms, most convenient definitions

I know it's been awhile. I'm sorry--I've been busy (with all good things, though!) and blog-neglectful.

I've started to mentally write this post a handful of times, but most often I just find myself thinking the subject line to myself--a line from one of my favorite movies.

You see us as you want to see us--in the simplest terms, the most convenient definintions.

It's funny--now that my pregnancy is pretty obvious, I've been getting a lot more comments and questions from strangers. Luckily, they've all been kind and well-meaning, so I'm not going to rant about people saying I look huge or unsolicited advice... But so often I find myself completely lying to them in response.

They ask if this is my first baby and I smile and nod while they gush about how excited we must be (and we are!). I listen to them tell me what it's like to hold your baby for the first time and the overwhelming feelings of love that you have like I don't know. I listen to their birth stories like I've never had a contraction or ever pulled my own legs back and push. I listen to my classmate in our Bradley birthing class express her fears of how she heard that an epidural can lower your blood pressure if you have existing low blood pressure--and I sit there, unable to tell her that with my epidural I sent alarms off all night and if they would have been concerned for the safety of my child at all, they would have totally carted me off to the operating room. But instead I say nothing, my heart and head burning with my lie of omission.

It's just easier than explaining what we've been through--and I know that it's the simple answer that people want to hear. And in a way, I want them to keep believing to the best of their ability that babies don't die. I wish I wasn't the girl whose baby died. I don't want their fears or their pity because neither of these things will make my heart hurt less or change what happened.

The simplest terms, most convenient definitions.

We are excited, we are grateful, and we love this little girl growing inside me to bits and pieces... But our hearts are still broken for our little girl who didn't make it.

We're creeping up on a year here, which is almost surreal to think about. But every time I see August 26th or 29th on something--the expiration date on a gallon of milk, my husband's oil change reminder, etc. I feel a sick to my stomach. August 26th, the day everything went to shit/August 29th, the day we said goodbye...

I've carved out that weekend as my own quiet time--we have no plans and no expectations, so we'll just play it by ear. The good news is that it will be better than the same day last year... but honestly, it won't take much to improve upon that.

So that's where I'm at right now, amidst all of the fabulous, generous showers and happiness. A (supposedly) glowing pregnant lady with a sad little secret...