Against all odds...

I'm having the best weekend ever.

We've been biking and playing, watching movies, sitting in front of bonfires, drinking wine, going to up to the lake, etc. And Friday I had a blast with some great girlfriends at a local winery.

Really. It's way better than I anticipated. While I haven't been 100% unplugged, I've kept my internet time to a minimum and my focus on my family. It's been work to fit everything in, but it's been incredible.

And as I type this, DH is out buying me some lime Tostitos (no idea why, but I've been craving them for at least a day now) and some more wine. Because we always need more wine, right? ;-) He's a good man!

Anyway, tonight I held Lillypants and marveled at the fact that two years ago I held a baby barely the size of her thigh--her sister. Yes I wish with everything that I have that she was here with us--but I didn't cry. Today I was able to accept the hand I was dealt and appreciated the brief moments I had with our first baby, and then felt overwhelmed with this incredible gift that I've been given.

Some days are still easier than others. I'm glad this weekend has proven to be more aligned with the former.

Oh and it sounds like we've agreed to go for #3, so there's that too. ;-)

Today is stupid.

Yep. That's my attitude at the moment. I fucking hate August 26th. I hate it with the fire of a thousand suns. I hate that it was the day that I was looking forward to and that it became the day that I'll never be able to forget and that I've lived over and over in my mind literally thousands of times. Almost every day, in fact. That's a lie: it has been every day of the past two years.

I'm doing my best to give it the big middle effing finger and go about my business, stay busy, and not look at the calendar. There's this big calendar when you enter my work--this morning as I entered the building I barely caught it out of the corner of my eye and just looked away and started to talk to a coworker.

Fuck it. I'm just not doing it. I'm not going to torture myself. I'm already done with all of my meetings for the day so I'm not even opening my Outlook calendar. No effing way.

Yesterday I was on Facebook and the little "On this day in 2009" thing popped up and it was something about me saying that my clothes didn't match because I was tired and got dressed in the dark. I just sat there and stared at the post--it was just so... superficial. Vain. Unimportant. Naive with no idea the shitstorm of sadness that was about to begin.

So eff you too, Facebook "On This Day..." feature. Eff you in the butt.

I am anxiously awaiting the day that August 26th comes to mean something else to me. I've been rooting with passion and glee for my sister's baby to arrive today. I would like nothing more than for this date to become a happy occasion and a celebration of new life. And at 2 days overdue, I'm sure she'd like nothing more than to oblige me. ;-) But the little man will arrive whenever he feels like it and I will celebrate him all the same. It's a good time of year to finally have something good happen.

So this weekend, we're unplugging. I've already turned off my Facebook wall and comments features. We're taking off Monday (Jude's birth-day) and are just going to hang out, do some fun family stuff, and remember our littlest lady.

It'll be fine, really. I'm way better than I was last year and actually looking forward to the family time. But I just hate this date. It's stupid.

xoxo

Things. And lots of them.

I swear, I've had the best intentions to update. I've mentally written eloquent posts. Hilarious posts. Anecdotes about new parenthood that you would enjoy. And then never posted them. Why?



I've been too busy smooshing these cheeks. And attending showers. And weddings. And planning showers and weddings and parties. 'Tis the season 'round these parts. It's been fun. Exhausting, but fun. And the cheek smooshing keeps me going.

But. There are other things and people on my mind tonight. A friend recently found out that the baby she is carrying will not make it. And while there are a lot of commonalities to this type of loss that I can empathize with, I know her journey has it's own complexities and unique devastation. But I know what that stab in the heart feels like and my heart absolutely goes out to her. I wish there was anything I could possibly do to take even a sliver of the pain away, but I know there is nothing. Nothing but I'm sorry's and a sympathetic ear.

And on a related note, it's almost August... It's been almost two years. While the pain doesn't usually take my breath away like it used to, the ache is there every single day. It's still completely shocking and surreal that I ever lived through that. And having a little one at home who looks so much like her big sister is a bittersweet reminder of what we lost.

I wish I had some way of closing this post off in a coherent manner, but tonight I've got nothing.

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.

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...

Weird to think about

As of 4:45 p.m. today, I will officially be the most pregnant I've ever been.

I delivered Jude on the day I turned 21 weeks, which was also a Saturday like today. And it's just weird to think that instead of feeling medically induced contractions, I'm feeling a happy, healthy little girl kick and swim around.

Just one more thing to add to the list

This is probably moreso for my own records than for any of your interest, but I wanted to record this for posterity.

On Mother's Day when we were getting in the car to head over to my mom's, the radio was on the 80s station on Sirius. When the song that was on came to an end, the DJ said that it was "Too Late For Goodbye" by Julian Lennon.

I wasn't familiar enough with his music to recognize it on my own and I was too wrapped up in my emotions at the time to really give it any thought, other than to make a quick mental note of the song title and yet another bizarre Jude-related coincidence--on Mother's Day of all days.

So now with time to reflect on it, I think I'll go ahead and consider that my first Mother's Day present ever. Thanks kiddo, I hear you loud and clear. XOXO

Mother's Day... for the rest of us.

I have to admit it, I had a total.fucking.meltdown Sunday morning. I wasn't really thinking about Mother's Day being a weird day for me since I'm not a big holiday celebrator, but I slept in and DH started giving me a little crap about being late to my mom's and in my head I was just like... MY FUCKING MOTHER'S DAY, TOO DAMMIT! Just because I didn't get to change any diapers doesn't mean I didn't push a baby out of my vagina and quite frankly, make some parental decisions no parent should ever have to make.

I got in the shower and just started uncontrollably sobbing. I just couldn't stop thinking about how Mother's Day is an entire day dedicated to moms of babies who lived--and how I wasn't one of them. And remember the day that I became a member of the "other" category.

And then I cried more getting dressed... and drying my hair... And finally just marched out of the bathroom, red faced and tearful (scaring the crap out of my husband in the process) and told him that I was sad and needed a hug. He said he felt awful, he hadn't even thought of how I'd feel on Mother's Day and that he felt like a jerk. I didn't expect flowers or a card, but I did sort of expect for him to at least SAY something to me to acknowledge the day--I mean, after all I have been pregnant for the past two Mother's Days.

And I cried a little more driving to my mom's... and then again at my mom's. Ugh. I was a mess, but eventually pulled it together after my sister looked at me with great sympathy and said, "You okay? You want some cheese? Maybe a sooooda?" which made me laugh. And I did enjoy a mini Baybel cheese and a coke and I felt a little better.

But I guess that's all part of the grieving process, but dammit-- sometimes it hits me out of nowhere.

How do you measure, measure a year?

Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?

In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights
In cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife

In five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure a year in the life?

How about love? How about love?
How about love? Measure in love

C'mon now, you know you wanna go ahead and hit play...



You know, I never really liked that song before, but recently a friend used it to describe her journey through infertility and subsequent IVF success and it just warmed my heart, having been there for that year of her life with so many ups and downs. (Congrats again my darling POF! and thank you for the beautiful flowers, you are so sweet and thoughtful!)

And now I find myself with an interesting 365 day, 180 degree turn of my own. And now the song makes a whole lot more sense--and of course, now brings me to tears.

So one year ago today, someone from my doctor's office called me and greeted me with the best news I'd ever heard-- "You're definitely pregnant!" but I think we all know how that story ended...

But today another person from my doctor's office showed me one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen-- my baby, with two glorious, functioning kidneys. Sometimes it *is* the little things in life that matter the most.



*sigh* Two very different April 28th's in my life, 365 days apart. But considering I can't have one without the other, I'll take them both for what they are.

So today with equal amounts of happiness, hope, and bittersweet wishes, we'll keep choosing to hold onto the love for both of our sweet little babies and let it multiply and thrive. And if I could speak to both of our babies right now, I'd thank you for everything you've brought into our lives over the past year and for making us who we are today.

The ultrasound also showed a crazy active little baby who was flopping all around, waving, and really putting on a ridiculous show. DH described it as s/he rebelling like 'NOOOO! I don't wanna take a bath! *insert distraction* Look Mom! Look what I can do!" But it really was glorious to see the little nugget in there, settled in for the long haul. (And hella cute, right?!)



The u/s tech asked if we were going to find out the baby's sex and I was like, "Sure--if it cooperates, after you're done with checking everything else. But if you can't tell, I promise not to cry. I really don't care either way and if all else fails, I'll find out on delivery day." ;-) She thought that was funny and a nice deviation from the usual "I MUST KNOW NOW!" vibe she usually gets.

And for everyone whose curiosity was piqued by mentioning she asked us if we wanted to know, the verdict was that it's too soon to tell. We were given a guess at our NT scan and one today and they're totally conflicting, so we're going back May 24th for a full anatomy scan and most likely it'll be more obvious then. And if not, we'll find out in October. ;-)

Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure the life
Of a woman or a man?

In truths that she learned
Or in times that he cried
In bridges he burned
Or the way that she died

It's time now to sing out
Tho' the story never ends
Let's celebrate
Remember a year in the life of friends

Remember the love...Seasons of love
Measure your life, measure your life in love

A good pick-me-up

I've been feeling more than a little apprehensive and freaked out over the past day or two. Having our kidney function ultrasound next week has dredged up memories of our anatomy scan last August... And it's left me feeling a little shaken.

I know that it's very unlikely that the same thing happened again or that there's anything else wrong. When those fears surface, I do my best to squash them. But then when I try to envision being given happy news, it's bittersweet that we didn't get good news last time. I hate to be greedy, but I want both of my babies here with me.

But I just had an unexpected interaction in the bathroom with a coworker. She asked me how I was feeling and if we were finding out if it's a boy or a girl. She asked if we found out last time, but then started to stop when she remembered that I hadn't carried the pregnancy to term. I just smiled and replied that yes, we did find out when I delivered and we had a little girl. She said that was sweet and then went on to ask about names and we discussed that for a little bit.

It felt good to say that I delivered a little girl. I may not get to walk around with her in my arms every day, but every day I walk around with her in my heart. And it felt good to say that out loud.

In other news, I've been getting more belly bubbles and starting to get that seasick feeling of something rolling around inside me--but nothing distinct yet. I'll be sure to keep you posted on progress.

The weird gets weirder.

For the record, I am NOT a person who typically believes/looks for signs... but seriously so many things have popped up lately, I feel like the universe is sending me a ridiculous amount of messages lately!

So we decide to name our Potters Sequence baby Jude after the patron saint of lost causes, no matter what gender. I grew up a total Beatles fanatic, so it's not long after deciding this that I take a little comfort in the song "Hey Jude," even though it was written for a very different purpose. Later I find out the song "Hey Jude" was originally released on August 26th, 1968... and we found out our bad news about Jude on the anniversary of the song 8/26/09.

On my way to my first ultrasound appointment about 6 weeks ago, Howard Stern was playing an old interview with--who? Julian Lennon, John Lennon's son and the boy "Hey Jude" was written for. Hmm... very weird.

Then I find out my due date is 10.9.10 (due date with Jude was 1.9.10).

THEN I find out that 10.9 is John Lennon's birthday.

Seriously!?! There are too many bizarre connections here and I feel like I can't really ignore them. Maybe I'll just take it as my Jude being on the other side, letting me know that she's okay and is very happy for us.

I am not alone. Again.

That feeling--it's back. I finally feel it. I'll have to go back and check my archives to see when it first arrived with Jude (all I remember is the New Kids on the Block concert) but over the past day or two, I finally feel like someone is down there like a Who down in Whoville, letting me know that they're there and they care.

I hear you loud and clear, little bugger. And I'll keep doing what I can to take care of you every day for as long as you let me.

Clearly it's too early for movement or even to have a visible bump (I was also shocked to discover this morning that I haven't gained a single pound--which is bizarre because my hunger pains have me acting more than a little Al Bundy), but there's just something that's different lately. I just have this strong feeling like another soul is taking up residence in my ute, making me feel content and cozy that life is good.

Thanks, little bugger. Momma loves you and appreciates you making your presence known more than you'll ever know. XOXO

Storytelling

Last night I finally started a new pregnancy journal. I wanted this baby to have a record of it's own of our journey together, one separate from Jude's. It was weird to be writing about our reactions to finding out I am pregnant again and our first ultrasound so late after the fact, but I've got some entries planned for the near future to make up for lost time.

I had gone out journal shopping a few weeks ago and didn't find anything I liked, but then last night I remembered that someone had given me a journal after we lost Jude and had included with it these two sweet coins that said hope and love--I tied them to the ribbon bookmark in the center.

In a way, it felt like a lie to not mention Jude because their stories are so interconnected. Still, I felt it was important to start something new, to make it clear that this isn't a replacement baby or Jude 2.0. This life is indeed Baby #2, with it's own story.

Eventually I'll probably give this baby both journals, so I guess it doesn't really matter. I'm also still writing in Jude's journal fairly regularly, even though it's more for my continued healing at this point than for any other reason.

We also haven't decided when or how we'll share Jude's story with our child. But the good news is that we have a long time before we have to decide anything like that.

In the meantime, I'll just try to keep telling both of their stories.

How did I not notice this before?

Jude's EDD: 1/9/10
BabyMSC's EDD: 10/9/10

8 weeks and counting

Hi all.

I'm sorry that I seem to have gone quiet again. I guess I haven't had much to say--things have been going well and I'm just waiting patiently for this little babe to keep cooking.

For the most part, I feel great. I don't feel particularly anxious--somehow I, Miss Ultra Control Freak, have been able to let go of any semblance of control I may have over this pregnancy. Time seems to be passing relatively quickly and yesterday marked 8 weeks.

I seem to have avoided morning sickness again (WHOOHOO!) and really my only syptoms are being really tired and I have the normal aches and pains. Nothing worth complaining about (well, to you. DH has to hear about it all.the.time!)

For the most part, I've been able to remain positive and confident that everything is going to be fine. Sure, I had a wee bit of a panic attack before our first appointment and I have had moments where I'm just thinking about something simple like an appointment and I realize that my mind has wandered off to thinking about how I'll react when it happens again... I know it may sound a little crazy, but when your only previous experience you have to draw from is an unhappy ending, I think it's fairly normal to have moments when you almost assume it will happen again. I just try not to dwell on it too much and switch my thinking to how great things will be.

I think about Jude a lot, especially her delivery. I can't help but think it's going to make this delivery bittersweet. With any luck, I'm going to be delivering a happy, healthy baby, but I can't help but wish that Jude could have had the same chance.

I think about what it was like to be in the hospital and deliver her, unsure if I wanted her to be born alive or already peacefully passed and anxiously waiting for someone to give me an indication either way and being too terrified to look for myself.

It's hard. It's still really, really hard. I love this little miracle baby that I've been given, but it's just going to make this all so different than what people normally experience. I'm sad that we've lost our innocence. I'm sad that when we hold this baby, I know our minds will go to what it felt like to hold our sweet, silent baby.

Sometimes shit just isn't fair.

The meaning of the leaf and the teardrop

When I was in the hospital, they gave me a card with a poem and the meaning of the leaf and the teardrop. I wanted to share it for all of you have experienced losses as well, in hopes that meaning brings you a little comfort.



A growing leaf, green in color, has fallen prematurely. It has separated from the tree of life and landed in a pool of water, of many tears. It is a dark moment. A human tear lingers on the freshly fallen leaf... before it turns brown.
Fallen.
Drifting aimlessly
on a sea of grief and pain
the leaf cradles a teardrop.
Offers refuge.
Embodies hope.
Just as winter awakens to spring,
our deepest sorrow harbors the seed of hope renewed.
Hope renewed.

by Susan Ring.

A deeper understanding of acceptance

Everyday when I walk into work, I'm greeted with a huge billboard with the date and a list of employee birthdays. It's a nice touch and I usually give it a glance to see if there are any familiar names, but this morning I paused when I read the date: January 7th, 2010.

I know I've already mentioned that my EDD is approaching and I'd already seen that poster twice this week so I shouldn't have been that surprised, but for some reason the creeping date just made me stop for a moment and let it sink in a little further that it's finally here.

I don't have much to say about it. It's weird, but it's just a part of my life that I can't change. It happened. And 1/9/10 will be no worse a day than 8/26/09 and the days that followed. It's so weird that it's been four months since we let the baby go and thankfully time has been kind to me.

I guess I thought I'd feel worse this week, but I've just been forcing myself to focus on what is vs. what could have been--because what's the point? Wishing and wondering won't change reality. I am not a full term pregnant woman-- and I never was.

I look exactly like I did one year ago, but somehow I've changed. I've been to hell and back and survived.That's still very shocking to me. I'd say it's pretty amazing, but I know that so many people have been through much worse and survived.

When it all first happened, I was sort of thankful that if we were going to lose the baby that we were in a situation with a clear diagnosis and that we wouldn't be jerked around with hope. It was what it was. It made it easy to understand what we had to do--but it wasn't true acceptance.

When I was reading about grief, oftentimes they mentioned denial and bargaining as stages, but it was weird--I never went through that. I kept saying that I accepted it, but only now do I understand what acceptance is. And it's not even something that I'm sure that I can put into words. I had to go through months of sorting out what I felt, what I had lost, and how this fits into my life now. And it made me really sad, realizing the magnitude of what happened and how this will stay with me forever. And it was in that darkness and quiet that I just finally said okay--I give up.

I knew from the very beginning that while it had broken our hearts, it wouldn't break us. We could handle it and we did--even though we didn't want to. We've emerged stronger in many respects and very vulnerable in others--and I don't see anything wrong with being more sensitive to loss. It makes you a better friend and person.

I don't know how or why this actually happened and I refuse to speculate because it won't change anything. I wont say that anything good came out of this because the best thing didn't happen. As much as I hate it (and I hate this phrase), it is what it is.

A brighter tomorrow

So the weight that I felt lifted a few weeks ago has stayed away--and to that I say hoorah! I'm still feeling good--more myself than I've been in a long time. I feel like it's here to stay.

That said, a very important date/hurdle is approaching: My EDD of 1-9-10. And I'd be lying if I said that I didn't feel more than a little conflicted about this.

On one hand, I've been feeling better and I feel like I can power through it using my holiday mantra of "Today is what it is, not what it was supposed to be."

Part of me is shocked that this day ever came--it felt like something looming off in the distance... An surreal abstract date that would never arrive.

But it's here. And you know what we're going to do? We'll be getting up at the crack of dawn on Saturday, January 9th and we're hopping on a flight to Mexico that will have me with a cocktail in hand by lunchtime.

I figured that if I'm going to be all sad and distraught, I might as well do it on a beautiful beach, surrounded by sand and warmth. And did I mention cocktails?

And all I can say is, "Keep 'em coming!"

My mantra for today/tomorrow

After two mimosas and a Christmas Ale, I had this revelation in the shower (that's where the magic always happens):

Today is what it is, not what "it was supposed to be."

I think I'm going to live this for the next day or so.

Turning the corner, seeing the light

It's happened a handful of times that when I vocalize that I'm starting to feel better, a shitstorm blows in and turns everything upside down again.

But it's been 5 days of feeling good--normal, in fact. I think you saw the first evidence of this on Friday when I posted that we booked our trip to Mexico--well, to go along with that I decided that I'm back on my healthy eating bandwagon, so I've been leading a fresh fruit and veggies assault. After a day or two of adjusting, I feel really good physically as well. So we're on our way, yes?

I feel like I've turned a corner. I think the end of 2009 is bringing some closure and I've completed some tasks related to the baby that I wanted to--addressed our medical bills, wrote her birth story, and OH! Wait! I forgot to tell you a few things!

Yesterday DH said he got a call from both the hospital billing department and the genetics counselor. The billing department is going to make some adjustments to our bill (YAY!) and I've been approved by my insurance company for Fragile X testing, bloodwork, and they're working on getting our kidney ultrasounds approved. I had sort of written off genetic testing as a possibility, but if insurance will cover it, why not go for it?

Yesterday was the winter solstice, aka "the darkest night of the year" and I decided to look at this occasion as a renewal of sorts--from here on out, things will get brighter and maybe if I just focus on the light, we'll get there faster.

Thank you for sticking with me in the darkness. I don't even know how to begin to express my gratitude for the endless support you guys have given to me.

xoxo