This morning I sat in the nursery feeding Samantha her bottle before her nap time. She snuggled quietly against me, happily slurping away, while holding a clump of my hair in her hand. This is our normal routine during bottle time (unless she's feeling fiesty and forgoes the hair for sticking her fingers up my nose) and I love it. It's quiet time with my beautiful child, and it gives me time to just enjoy her babyhood.
I spend a lot of time running around, cleaning up after her messes, stacking blocks to have them knocked down, cooking, cleaning, laundry...the list goes on and on. We also have Samantha's music class, her little tumbling class, her playdates and the never-ending stream of appointments. My calendar is busier now than it ever has been.
I forget sometimes how important it is to stop and snuggle. My baby girl tries to remind me of this, by stopping in middle of playing and crawling to me for a hug and kiss. It's something that I treasure and need more of. It warms my heart, makes me grateful, and keeps me grounded in today not dwelling on the past.
Moments like these are my "touchstones" during the day. Feeding my baby, snuggling up with my pups, lying in bed reading books with my husband. I am truly blessed and my heart is full today.
Our journey through life's ups and downs, ins and outs, outbursts of joy and tears of sadness.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Monday, April 2, 2012
Noah
Two years ago we were celebrating in the joy of a positive pregnancy test. My numbers were doubling, and my doctor told me to be hopeful regardless of the spotting that I was having. We were so ecstatic being pregnant "so quickly" after losing Hope the previous January. We picked out names, not caring if the baby was a boy or girl, just a healthy baby. I bought maternity pants as my regular jeans were already feeling snug. We told our family and several close friends of our big news.
We did not know that this pregnancy would be one that would add another inch of paper to my medical chart. We did not know that our precious child wasn't snuggled safely, but instead had implanted on my right ovary. We didn't know that the tightness of my pants wasn't due to my uterus expanding, but to bloating in my abdomen from the "ectopic pregnancy". We didn't know that this sweet child would have such a label. We didn't know that in just a few days we'd get the devastating, crushing news that our child was leaving us. That our precious Noah had gone on to join Hope in heaven.
Then would start the endless bloodwork. The bleeding for a month straight. The "bouncing HcG" results. The threat of methotrexate to "terminate the pregnancy". The prayers, oh the prayers, that sweet little Noah would "naturally" move on and that medicine and surgery wouldn't be needed. My arms looked like a drug addicts, my eyes were constantly red, and my heart was broken.
If anything can be found as a blessing in this, is that the loss of Noah is what brought me to a wonderful community of support called Hannah's Prayer. I found sisters there that I didn't know I needed, and friendships that I will treasure for a lifetime. Thank you, Noah, for your sweet little life, as short as it was, bringing Mommy to find a community such as this. Mommy misses you, precious little one, and look forward to the day that I meet you in heaven.
We did not know that this pregnancy would be one that would add another inch of paper to my medical chart. We did not know that our precious child wasn't snuggled safely, but instead had implanted on my right ovary. We didn't know that the tightness of my pants wasn't due to my uterus expanding, but to bloating in my abdomen from the "ectopic pregnancy". We didn't know that this sweet child would have such a label. We didn't know that in just a few days we'd get the devastating, crushing news that our child was leaving us. That our precious Noah had gone on to join Hope in heaven.
Then would start the endless bloodwork. The bleeding for a month straight. The "bouncing HcG" results. The threat of methotrexate to "terminate the pregnancy". The prayers, oh the prayers, that sweet little Noah would "naturally" move on and that medicine and surgery wouldn't be needed. My arms looked like a drug addicts, my eyes were constantly red, and my heart was broken.
If anything can be found as a blessing in this, is that the loss of Noah is what brought me to a wonderful community of support called Hannah's Prayer. I found sisters there that I didn't know I needed, and friendships that I will treasure for a lifetime. Thank you, Noah, for your sweet little life, as short as it was, bringing Mommy to find a community such as this. Mommy misses you, precious little one, and look forward to the day that I meet you in heaven.
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