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That Time I Miscarried, And the Lessons to be Learned

It’s been a long week. Many tears. Many. Many. Many.   On Monday this week, I passed a miscarried baby. It was the most unexpected emotional event I’ve had in quite some time.

I felt so guilty. I felt so alone. I felt so humbled.

Not everyone gets to miscarry a baby and see the whole thing. The little babe came out complete in his little amniotic sac. I found the bravery to open the sac thanks to google. Inside there was a tiny little body. Little hands. Little legs. Little black spots for eyes. A forming face. A spine.

I hadn’t wanted to be pregnant. I had struggled for weeks, wondering how I would tell the world, when I didn’t feel ready to tell the world. In the shower, I had cried and cried feeling betrayed to “have” to carry this baby.

Then here he was, in my hands.  And I wasn’t taken aback by his lifelessness. I was taken aback by his life.

That little one, didn’t matter what I thought, was just doing what he could do. Just going right along, forming there, despite my feelings.

And I felt so guilty. I felt so alone. I felt so humbled.

I told that little one I was sorry. I prayed to God to forgive my selfishness. I took the moment in as far as I could. Because what I didn’t realize in those tears I cried in the shower, was the loss I would feel once he was gone.

And it’s okay. Now that its over.

Well, no it’s not. Today my midwife sent me vitamins to help regain strength during this healing time. And I cried again.  I didn’t think I would, but it just came again. Because I was affected. Because it is a loss. And it’s okay to recognize it as such.

But it is okay. Because through the hard times, we realize our hearts. We allow those things to shape us. And I think of the little one who I never took the time to look forward to, and I know that next time around…if I’m blessed with a next time around…I’ll take in those beginning moments a little bit more.  And be a little more grateful for things out of my control. And love the moment.

Remind me, to love the moment.

I’m Going to Blog….darn it

I have the best intentions when it comes to blogging. I write these fabulous posts in my head all day long. Different scenario’s of life that make me want to write and write and write. So I take a picture that I think will go great with the post. I make sure my computer is charged and ready to go. I wait for that quiet moment where I can sit and think about what I want to write. Then everyone’s hungry. Then everyone’s looking for something to do. Then the babe is tired. Then The doggies need to potty. Then there’s puke on the floor. Then it’s dinner time. Then we wind down for bed. Then the littles all go to bed. Then I sit down to write. Then my brain no longer functions.  I might upload the photo I took earlier. I might edit it. I’ll probably need to work on this sled dog race a bit. And then I’ll forget what it was I was going to write about in the first place. Or better yet, I’ll walk away with out another thought on the subject.koyuk

But I miss writing. I miss sharing my life with you.Z at 5
December is coming up. I’m gearing up for the December photo-a-day challenge. Let’s give that a go again, eh? And maybe you’ll see this blog jump start again.

The Pox and Words of a 19 month old {video}

Some bring on the new year with things like resolutions. Maybe an attempt to exercise, eat right, find true love, that sort of thing. Not us. We bring on the new year with chicken pox.

At least that’s what our bean thinks. She’s decided to sport some new itchy red bumps the last couple of days. She loves them so much she’s let them spread to her arms and down her legs.

But don’t take my word for it. This is what she had to say about it;

This Morning Started with a Good Dose of Therapy

I spent a slow morning cuddled up with my middle little who wanted nothing more then to look at pictures on our computer. Though I had plans of my own, you know, important things like facebook and blog reading, I’ve learned an important lesson long ago. It’s always okay to break stride in my day to spend those precious couple of minutes with my littles. It will only last so long, and their learning and curiosity means more to me then any amount blogs or facebooking I could do in one day.

Turns out middle little knew exactly what mamma needed this morning.

We started with pictures stored on iphoto. Mostly photo’s from my phone of the quick simple moments from the last year. The travels, the garden, themornings of disheveled little hairs that I don’t want to ever forget. But iphoto photo’s quickly turned into funny ideas of taking our own photos via photobooth. You know, the silly ones. The kind that I’ve determined mamma’s and daughters should always take together. And we laughed. And it was so good.   Our mamma’s therapy session with looking all the old photo’s and videos that have found themselves stored on photo booth since this computer became ours. Video’s of Hosanna dancing her heart out and having “preformances” where Zuri came running through disrupting the scene as only Torah can like wise do today.

And I realized that somethings haven’t changed over the years with the girls. In some ways I feel more mature as a parent, and I wonder when the last time we had a dance party was. But Hosanna still preforms. Zuri still dances and admires everything Hosanna does. And Torah disrupts everything the other two do.

I’m so glad I’ve captured these things in photo’s and videos.

And that’s where my therapy has come in. I’ve spent time since we’ve been home never wanting to take photo’s again. Tired of trying to be “successful” as a photographer all the while losing the passion for why I ever enjoyed taking photo’s in the first place. And it’s the same with blogging. I find myself not writing or blogging because I have these great ideas of how my blog is going to be the next biggest thing, and if I can’t do that then why blog?

Oh my err.

The reason I have ever began blogging or loving photography or videography is all because the moments in this life are so precious. They’re so special. So important. I’m so thankful they have been documented.

Thank you Zuri for the therapy today.

Late night drive from Pensacola, Florida to Indianapolis, Indiana. We’re somewhere between Birmingham and nashville. And you, blog, you’re what’s entertaining me.

Okay you and angry birds. I love angry birds. Because every now and again you just have to sling shot birds through the air at green pigs.

And while we’re in this moment of truth the venti double shot I picked up at our last stop is also helping me on this drive.

And possibly another piece of pizza. Pizza is always entertaining.

Concerning home, we’ll soon be there. Home as in Michigan. Although, home is beginning to feel more on the bus these days then at home. Not for any real reason but I’ve found as we’ve round out this trip to head home I’m not having visions of sleeping in my bed and dancing through the snow in the streets of Iron River.
In fact, I’m not looking forward to leaving my bus bed. And I could really survive if I didn’t have to deal with snow for one winter in my life.
But I’m the minority. Most everyone is happy to see snow. And by everyone I most definitely mean my littles. They can not wait to play in snow. In fact, tears were shed when they heard that it had snowed with out them. HOW DARE SNOW?! snowing with out them.
I just want to hear them weep about snow in February.
Except we might be near Arizona in February. Because I’m a tyrant vicious Mamma who keeps her littles from the precious northern winter.

MMMMMMMMmmmmmm

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